


Daydream

by hostilovi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 54,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8496904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostilovi/pseuds/hostilovi
Summary: “It’s just a compatibility test like any other dating scheme. It’s pseudo-science, at best.”“It’s a soulmate system, Iwa-chan. You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little curious.”Iwaizumi wasn't sure what was worse--that he was tempted to believe in this soulmate thing, or that he got matched with someone so unattainable.





	1. What You Know and What You Wish You Didn't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jonesies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonesies/gifts).



Suffice it to say, Iwaizumi was less than thrilled about the current turn of events.

“It’ll be fun,” Oikawa wheedled again. “Don’t you want to see if it actually works?”

“Not really,” he ground out, attempting to ignore his best friend by scrunching down lower over his book. Not that he could concentrate on his studying when Oikawa was like this; not that he had really been concentrating before Oikawa had even shown up. It was only the start of the semester and his motivation to not fail any of his classes wasn’t exactly all there yet.

Oikawa knew this and was trying to use it to his advantage.

“C’mon, Iwa-chan, shouldn’t you be falling over yourself to help me get over my heartbreak?”

“If I did that every time you claimed to be heartbroken, I’d have time for nothing else.”

“So cruel, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi glanced up. Oikawa did look more tired than usual, lacking some the usual luster and charm he exuded. His on-again, off-again relationship with one Kuroo Tetsurou had recently fallen into the ‘off’ stage. Not for the first time, probably not for the last.

They would be good for each other if either of them ever managed to get their head out of their ass.

“You shouldn’t be relying on a damn machine to tell you what’s what.”

“It’s been scientifically proven to work!”

“It’s just a compatibility test like any other dating scheme. It’s pseudo-science, at best.”

“It’s a  _soulmate_  system, Iwa-chan. You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little curious.”

“Why would I want to learn everything there is to know about some person who’s supposedly,” he put emphasis on that word, “my soulmate? Takes the fun out of the ‘getting to know you’ stage, doesn’t it?”

“You don’t learn everything, just some pieces. If your soulmate is really out there—”

“—the world isn’t set in stone like that, Oikawa. Emotions are the most fickle thing there is.”

“So you don’t believe in soulmates?”

Iwaizumi sighed, shutting the book with an audible thump. Clearly he’d be getting nothing done today. “If such a thing  _did_  exist, I’d want to find them for myself.”

“But Iwa-chan, these tickets expire tomorrow.”

“Find someone else to go with you.”

Oikawa looked down at his hands, fidgeting in his seat, a strange smile on his face.

“I was going to ask Kuroo to go with me. But then, well—you’re all I’ve got, Hajime.”

“Don’t pull that shit with me. You’ve got tons of friends.”

“I’ve got tons of acquaintances, maybe. Nobody’s ever stuck by me like you have.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Look, I just don’t want to go alone. If it looks sketchy, we can leave.”

“Of course it’s sketchy. Haven’t you read the articles about it? It’s only just out of testing.”

“Oh-ho, so you  _have_  been following the news about it?” Like that, his face broke out in a devious grin. Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes at him in a warning he didn’t heed. “Sounds to me like you’re more interested than you’re letting on.”

“Just because I keep up with the current events, Shittykawa—”

“Please,” he interrupted. “Don’t make me beg, Hajime.”

He shot Oikawa another glare and jabbed a finger against his chest.

“I do this, you owe me. Something big.”

“Anything you want!” Oikawa agreed, a little too cheerfully. Like he had known this would be the eventual outcome.

And maybe he had.

That wouldn’t stop Iwaizumi from doing what he did best: being a damn good best friend.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The place was located only a few stations away by train, in the shopping district. The outside was nondescript enough, except for the boldly red sign proclaiming it to be ‘Soulmate Connect’ with the slogan ‘Let Us Find Your Red String of Fate!’ below it.

It looked about as legitimate as those palm-readers hawking the side streets. Which was to say, Iwaizumi wanted nothing to do with any of the goings-on within.

Oikawa stared up at the sign with wide, hopeful eyes.

Iwaizumi knew that look, knew the coiled tension he could see between his shoulders. There would be no convincing him to let it be.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Iwaizumi grumbled, grabbing him by the arm and half-hauling him through the door.

A soft chime echoed throughout the foyer. The assistant, seated at the desk, stood and gave a short bow.

“Welcome to Soulmate Connect. How may I assist?”

“He won some tickets and wants to try it out,” Iwaizumi explained shortly.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa berated him gently, straightening his shirt and throwing on his most winning smile. He pulled out the laminate tickets and placed them on the desk. “I did win these the other day.”

The assistant observed the tickets without touching them, before giving a deliberate nod. “Yes, these are our promotional vouchers. Will the both of you be using our services today?”

“No,” Iwaizumi said, at the same Oikawa said, “Yes.”

“I’m afraid I do not understand your response. Please repeat clearly.”

So the assistant was a VI. A very well-made VI, considering he hadn’t noticed until now. If Iwaizumi squinted, he could make out the lines of code dancing beneath their projected skin. It just barely flickered.

“Yes,” Oikawa repeated before Iwaizumi could speak up.

“This isn’t what we agreed on,” Iwaizumi said in an undertone to him. “You just wanted someone to go with you—”

“Very good. We can only accommodate one person at a time. Which of you will be using our services first?”

“You go first,” Oikawa hissed in his ear before shoving him forward towards the assistant. Their limpid smile was still in place, unaffected by their quiet bickering. Iwaizumi turned to glare at him but the VI was already continuing on.

“Very good. Please continue through the door. Our attendant will be waiting for you.” The VI made a gesture to the door behind them, which unlocked with a soft click.

“Can my friend come and watch?” Like hell he wanted to go through this bullshit  _alone._

The VI’s smile was unmoving. “Any outside stimuli may affect the results of your profiling. I’m afraid your friend will have to wait their turn.”

They looked at each other. Oikawa shrugged and gestured for him to go on. Iwaizumi glared, drew a finger across his throat, and stepped through the door.

It closed behind him with a soft hiss of air that sent a tingle up his spine.

The attendant was waiting for him at the end of the hall, a datapad in hand.

“Welcome to Soulmate Connect,” they said briskly, barely sparing him a glance. The yellow-orange glow from the datapad lit up their face eerily in the otherwise dim hall. “I’ll need to confirm your identity for our records.”

Iwaizumi held out his arm and they scanned his citizen chip.

“Welcome, Iwaizumi Hajime. Step right this way.”

“What exactly is involved in this?” Iwaizumi asked as they opened a door to their left and ushered him inside.

“It’s perfectly painless, I assure you. Your profile is already being constructed as we speak. I’ll just need to ask you a few simple questions, and we can carry on with the fMRI scan.”

“fMRI?” He hadn’t heard anything about this in the articles he had skimmed through.

“Perfectly painless, like I said. Please, take a seat.”

The room was mostly dark, except for the central area where there was a chair waiting for him. Iwaizumi sat, cautiously. The attendant approached with the cap; it was intimidating to look at, glowing with a gentle blue light, wires leading in and out of it. But he held still while they placed it on his head.

Oikawa  _so_ owed him.

“Drink this.”

They handed him a plastic cup. He sniffed at the clear liquid within, suspicious.

“It’s a special blend, mostly of amino acids, that will help open your mind to the connection we’re trying to make today.”

“Looks like water to me.”

The attendant smiled, but there was annoyance in their sharp gaze. Iwaizumi swallowed it all in one gulp, noting the vaguely citrus taste, and handed the cup back.

“Relax. Deep breaths, close your eyes.”

Iwaizumi looked at them dubiously, but they just raised an eyebrow. He sighed and closed his eyes.

“Your full name?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Date of birth?”

All of this information was recorded in his chip. Just as Iwaizumi was about to ask what the point of these questions were, he felt…something. A slight tug at the back of his mind, a flash of a vision in his head that didn’t seem to originate from within.

“June. June 10th.”

“Very good. Keep breathing, just like that.”

He hadn’t been aware of it, but his breathing and deepened and evened out, like he was sleeping. He felt half-asleep, dreamlike. The attendant’s voice came from far away.

“Your profiling is complete. You are now entering the connection stage.”

Iwaizumi felt that strange tug again and went chasing after it this time. Bits and pieces of visions came to him. A pair of hands, turning the pages of a book, large yet somehow elegant. Dark hair, a glance from indistinctly colored eyes. Half a smile.

The sounds from the volleyball court, so familiar. Why this? He tried to grab hold of that tugging sensation, to turn it into something more tangible and steady, and fell into another dream.

Walking down the stone path through the university grounds, leaves crunching underfoot. The sound of laughter carried above it and it made him feel inexplicably warm.

They felt almost like memories. Like a life he had lived out before, or perhaps a future he was destined for.

A light touch on his hand, a voice murmuring something, too soft to catch though Iwaizumi strained and strained to hear.

He snapped to attention, eyes flying open as the feeling grew too intense to bear.

The attendant was watching him closely, studiously. When they saw his eyes open, they stepped forward and removed the mind cap with a delicate touch.

“What was that?” Iwaizumi couldn’t help asking. His hands were shaking so he clenched them into fists on his lap.

“That was the connection process. You’ve been fully profiled and have established a link between you and your soulmate.” They set aside the cap and tapped a few things into their datapad. “Any dizziness, headache, nausea?”

“No, but—”

“Very good. Your results will be mailed to you within the next three weeks.”

“Results?”

The attendant raised an eyebrow again, folding their hands behind their back. “The name and basic profile of your soulmate. Through this door, please.”

They led him back out to the foyer, bid him have a pleasant day, and disappeared. Oikawa was waiting for him in one of the chairs that were artfully scattered around, legs bouncing up and down. He jumped to his feet when he saw Iwaizumi blinking in the comparatively bright lights of the room. 

“You’re up,” Iwaizumi said, rubbing at the side of his head as he tried to banish the tangle of unclear visions from his mind. Oikawa shook his head, slowly, moving further away from the VI that was inquiring whether or not he was going to use his second voucher.

“I—I don’t think I’m going to do it. I’ve been thinking about what you said, the whole time you were in there.”

Now he decided to gain some common sense? “I said a lot of things.”

“About nothing being set in stone. About how you’d rather find your soulmate on your own.” He snorted. “About whether soulmates really exist.”

“Oikawa—”

“And you’re right, you know? So I’m not going to do it.” He smiled hesitantly. “Sorry for making you go through all that.”

Iwaizumi sighed, shutting his eyes briefly. The visions stayed, just out of his reach.

“Then let’s just go.”

They took the train back to the university, mostly in silence.

“What was it like?” Oikawa asked finally, bumping his knee up against Iwaizumi’s.

“Weird.”

“Full of information, as usual, Iwa-chan.”

“I don’t know, most of what I saw didn’t make much sense.”  _A pair of hands, turning the pages of a book_. “It was a lot of flashes of information that I don’t know what to do with. Whoever they are, they can’t stand Kerouac.”

“Kerouac?”

“The author. American lit.”

“So you didn’t actually, you know,  _see_ them?”

“Glimpses. It was all blurry.” Iwaizumi rubbed a hand over his face, elbowing Oikawa when he remained planted in his personal space. “They’ve got dark hair.”

“They could be anyone, if that’s all you know” Oikawa said with a disappointed sigh, not moving away despite the ungentle elbow.

“I told you it was sketchy.” They exited the train together and headed towards the dorm apartments. There was a barely-there chill in the air that spoke of the autumn yet to come. “You insisted, and now I’ve got this useless shit in my head.”

Oikawa waved his words away, replying airily, “I doubt the effects are lasting. Don’t be so dramatic, Iwa-chan.”

After consenting to the fMRI procedure, Iwaizumi thought he had earned the right to be as dramatic as he wanted to be. He grabbed Oikawa by the back of his shirt, hauling him close even though he yelped out something about  _manhandling._

“You owe me,” he reminded Oikawa.

“Jeez, Iwa-chan, I know!”

“See you don’t forget it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Though many wouldn’t have guessed it, the library was Iwaizumi’s haven. He went there to study, to do his homework, when he had to kill time, when he had nowhere else to go. At the beginning of every semester, he made sure to stake his claim to one of the best tables—close enough to the windows to see outside, not close enough to be distracted by it. His first semester there, he had gone for a table deep in the stacks but found he missed the sunlight too much.

For some reason, in the weeks following his encounter with Soulmate Connect, he found himself drawn to the library, more than ever before. Like he was a speck of iron, being pulled in by a magnet. Oikawa accused him of becoming a true nerd, instead of just a comic book nerd.

Iwaizumi smacked him upside the head and told him off for hogging the bathroom while he meticulously did his hair every morning.

The effects of the procedure  _were_  lasting. Iwaizumi was plagued by odd dreams, moments of déjà vu, slight pangs in his chest when he dwelled on the visions too long.

Needless to say, he was pissed about it. The whole thing was completely illogical—it barely even qualified as pseudo-science, as he had told Oikawa. He should have known better, should have fought more against going. He hadn’t wanted to do it in the first place, but naturally he gave in to Oikawa’s pathetic face.

Again.

Iwaizumi scowled at nothing as he made the trek to the library. The cool in the air was refreshing, a break from the pressing heat of summer. He felt calmer as he got closer to the building.

“Keep your face like that too long, it’ll get stuck that way, bud.” A pair of long legs matched with his easily, their elbows bumping. The other man smelled, almost overwhelmingly, of coffee.

His scowl deepened.

“I’m not your bud.”

Kuroo pressed a dramatic hand to his chest, moving to block his path. Iwaizumi sighed and came to a stop. “Iwaizumi, I’m hurt!”

“What do you want?”

His face fell a little, settling into a range somewhere between concerned and amused. “Just checking to see how—”

“If you want to know how Oikawa is, ask him yourself. I’m not playing messenger.”

“—how  _you_ are. Heard through the grapevine that you and Oikawa went off to do that soulmate thing together a while back.”

Iwaizumi searched his face for a moment, registered the tight, coiled energy he exuded today. “You mean Oikawa told you. You two are talking again?”

“We were always talking. We’re on the same team, we talk every day, same as you.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

Kuroo shrugged, dark eyes sliding away from him. “Hell if I know. We’re not  _not_  talking.”

“You two need to get your shit figured out,” Iwaizumi said. Kuroo shrugged again, something sad about the stern set of his mouth.

“So, all right, Oikawa finally told me he made you go through with it. And frankly, I didn’t think you were the type, but hey, life is full of surprises, y’know? How was it?”

That was the last thing that Iwaizumi wanted to talk about, to anyone. The visions themselves were too confusing, too private. Though he didn’t doubt Kuroo would only bring it up again later, he avoided the topic gracelessly. “Why, thinking about doing it yourself?”

Kuroo laughed. “Nah, man. That soulmate stuff is too heavy for me. I’d rather go along with the flow.”

Iwaizumi bumped shoulders, none too gently, with him as he passed by.

“See to it that your ‘going along with the flow’ doesn’t fuck up my best friend.”

“Hey.” Kuroo caught him by the arm. “You know that’s not what I’m trying to do.”

Iwaizumi looked at him evenly until he let go. “Whatever it is you’re trying, figure it out. I’m tired of running to the convenience store at three in the morning for ice cream.”

Kuroo blinked in surprise, then forced a smile, throwing out a jaunty salute. Then he was gone, leaving Iwaizumi to continue on his journey in peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Iwaizumi had come to the library with good intentions. The best of intentions. He was going to study, he was going to ace his upcoming midterms, and that would be that.

That would be a lot easier to achieve if he didn’t keep zoning out every five minutes. How long had he even been here? He was afraid to check.

Iwaizumi caught himself staring mindlessly at one of the student librarians—again—and quickly looked away before he could notice, scowling at the floor. It was always the same student librarian, too, with that mop of wavy black hair and a seemingly endless repertoire of sweater vests.

Akaashi Keiji.

He knew him, vaguely, through Bokuto and Kuroo. He came to a lot of their games, and even some of their practices. He had never thought much of him before—too stoic, too polite, too much of a fancy-tea-drinker for Iwaizumi to think they would get on that well. Or maybe he was the one who was too much—too temperamental, too coarse.

Iwaizumi snorted and returned to his note-taking.

The soft sound of what he now recognized as the low, indistinct murmur of Akaashi’s voice distracted him not but a few moments later and he glanced up. Akaashi was talking through the process of using the navi-bots that would guide you to the section of the stacks you needed to a worried-looking student. The student scampered after the bot as it floated on its way and Akaashi watched them go, shaking his head.

One of the other student librarians whispered something to him, and Akaashi smiled.

Iwaizumi’s heart lurched.

He had figured himself immune to the charm of good smiles, having grown up with Oikawa, but Akaashi had a dimple, just there, and his smile lit up his eyes, just so, and Iwaizumi felt a little bit like he was dying.

Every time he looked at Akaashi lately, he felt—he didn’t know what he felt. Nothing, probably.

Nothing became  _something_ , and then there was that little tug again, a string knotted loose around a thought—tugging and tugging—until it felt like he was back in the lab, mind stretched deep and reaching for something hard, solid—real.

The stylus pen between his fingers twitched back and forth.

_What if—maybe—_

His hand paused.

Right. Iwaizumi Hajime, soulmates with Akaashi Keiji. That was about as likely as Oikawa waking up one day and deciding to shave his head.

He gathered up all his books, shoved them into his bag and bolted, nearly leaving his phone behind in his haste.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Later that night, after he got out of the shower, there was a message waiting on his phone from Soulmate Connect.

His finger hovered over the delete button, undecided.

He didn’t need to know.

At the same time, what could be the harm in knowing?

“Whatcha doin’, Ha-ji-me?” Oikawa sang out, throwing an easy arm around his neck. He squinted at the phone screen through his glasses. “Dude, you didn’t tell me you got your results! Who is it?”

“Don’t know.”

“Aren’t you going to open it and find out?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

Oikawa slipped the phone out of his hand and tapped the accept button. Before Iwaizumi could protest, a hologram popped up above the screen. It was the same VI figure they had met before.

 _“Thank you for using Soulmate Connect,”_ their tinny voice said.  _“Iwaizumi Hajime, your results are in. Please confirm identity to continue.”_

Oikawa grabbed his hand and pressed his thumb to the reader despite how Iwaizumi struggled to get away.

If he was being honest, he wasn’t struggling that hard.

So he was curious about who he’d been matched with. So what?

 _“Identity confirmed. Iwaizumi Hajime, matched to Akaashi Keiji, birthdate of December 5 th. Current public records show he is in attendance at TK University.”_ The VI bowed to them and said,  _“Good luck.”_

The VI holo sank back into the screen and the message cleared, leaving them in silence.

“Huh,” Oikawa said.

Iwaizumi grabbed his phone back. “You’re such an asshole,” he snapped before storming towards his bedroom.

Oikawa followed.

“So what are you going to do? Are you going to tell him?”

“There’s nothing to tell. They obviously use some crackpot methodology to match you with someone who happens to be nearby—”

“Iwa-chan, you can’t really believe that—”

“—oh, trust me, I can—”

“Hajime!” Oikawa grabbed him around the waist and used his weight to haul him to a stop, nearly toppling them both onto the floor. “What is the worst that could happen? If you’re really soulmates…don’t you want to at least give it a shot?”

Iwaizumi held very still.

“Let go of me,” he said carefully.

Oikawa held on tighter, burying his head in the back of Iwaizumi’s neck.

“All I’m saying is if you’ve been given a chance for happiness, you should go for it.”

“I don’t need some so-called ‘soulmate’ to make me happy.”

“Hajime—”

“I know what you mean. Message received. Now let go, I’m going to bed.”

“You shouldn’t go to bed angry.” But Oikawa let go of him. Iwaizumi glanced back to see a rare kind of hesitancy in his expression; a soft uncertainty warring with his usual confidence. Sighing through his nose, Iwaizumi reached out and ruffled Oikawa’s hair.

“I’m not mad at you.”

Oikawa snorted and smacked his hand away.

“Who asked that? Sweet dreams, Iwa-chan.”

With that, he flounced away towards his own room.

Iwaizumi rubbed a hand over his face and closed the door behind him, curling up beneath the covers. They were plain blue— _so boring_ , Oikawa had complained as he hauled up his own celestial patterned blankets—but exquisitely soft. A gift from his parents as he went off to university.

Usually he had no trouble getting to sleep.

Tonight was a different story.

His thoughts were nothing but Akaashi, Akaashi, Akaashi.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 He did nothing with the new information he had, for several days.

Of course, he still caught himself staring at Akaashi. For someone he had categorized as mostly unremarkable—other than his preternatural skill at reading Bokuto’s moods—he was extremely distracting. He moved with a certain poise, that reminded Iwaizumi of a dancer, like he was aware of all the muscles in his body and how to use each one.

Iwaizumi found himself reliving those brief flashes he caught during the connection procedure.

_A pair of hands turning the pages of a book, large yet somehow elegant. Dark hair, a glance from indistinctly colored eyes. Half a smile._

_The sounds from the volleyball court, so familiar._

_Walking down the stone path through the university grounds, leaves crunching underfoot. The sound of laughter carried above it and it made him feel inexplicably warm._

They were vague kinds of déjà vu memories. They could have connected him to anyone.

Akaashi Keiji wasn’t just  _anyone._

Iwaizumi was making his dutiful trek to the library, resigning himself to the inevitable headache he would get from wrestling with his calculus homework, when someone called out to him. But he’d rather deal with the headache and figure it out himself, rather than ask Oikawa for answers.

Oikawa wasn’t much a teacher, anyway.

“Iwaizumi!” Bokuto grinned and waved both arms above his head, in an exuberant pantomime for him to come over. An answering smile tugged at his lips until he saw who he was with.

Akaashi Keiji.

He was sipping demurely from a stonework mug, watching him closely.

There was no avoiding this encounter, not now that Bokuto had seen him.

Iwaizumi walked over to the pair, nearly stumbling when Bokuto slapped him on the back in greeting. He gave him an answering slap. Bokuto didn’t budge even one centimeter.

“Iwaizumi! You remember Akaashi, yeah?”

“I remember,” he said, bobbing his head towards the other man. Akaashi offered up a surprisingly warm smile in return.

 “He works in the library,” Bokuto continued enthusiastically, slinging an easy arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. There was a curious physical intimacy between them; Akaashi didn’t seem like the type who would willingly let others into his personal space, but he didn’t bat an eye at Bokuto’s touch.

Iwaizumi thought of Oikawa. Maybe it wasn’t so curious after all.

“I know.”

“You do?”

“I mean, I’ve seen him around there.”

“Ah right, I forgot you’re a mega nerd,” Bokuto said with a grin.

“I believe I’ve seen you around as well,” Akaashi said. His voice was pleasant—not in tone, particularly, but the sound of it fell on Iwaizumi’s ears like soft flakes of snow. “Bokuto, please use him as an example and study more this semester.”

Bokuto groaned. “Akaashi,” he said, drawing out the syllables of his name until it was nearly unrecognizable. “I  _do_ study.”

“Not enough.”

“Akaashi!”

“The ‘student’ part of student athlete comes first for a reason, Bokuto.”

Iwaizumi watched their exchange, feeling a bit out of the loop. They had gone to the same high school, from what Iwaizumi could remember.

“In any case, don’t you have class coming up?”

“Oh shit!” Bokuto stood up straighter. “Yeah, I gotta run. See you at practice, Iwaizumi!” He dashed off, both of them watching him go. Akaashi let out a small, fond chuckle that sent a shiver up Iwaizumi’s spine at how damn _familiar_ that sound was, even though he’d never heard him laugh before.

Goddamned machines, messing with his head. His fingers twitched at his sides, wanting to clench into fists. He stretched them wide before forcibly relaxing.

“You know his schedule?” Iwaizumi asked.

“Makes things simpler to know”

“Right.” Iwaizumi had no idea what to say to this man. Sure, he had been having weird flashback-like dreams of him, and kept  _staring_ at him, however unintentionally, whenever they crossed paths in the library. Dream Akaashi was something he could deal with. The real thing? He was lost. “Well, I was just—”

“—going to the library? You have the look.”

Iwaizumi frowned, not sure if he was being made fun of or not. And uncertain how he should react, in either case. “It’s just my face.”

Akaashi let out a small snort of laughter.

Iwaizumi would have paid anything to hear him laugh again—really laugh—in that moment.

“Somehow I doubt that, Iwaizumi-san.”

“Just…” Iwaizumi rubbed the back of his neck and fell into easy step with Akaashi when he started walking in the same direction. “Just Iwaizumi is fine.”

“Just Iwaizumi, then.”

 They walked the short distance to the library in silence. Iwaizumi hoped it was companionable rather than awkward. He sure as hell couldn’t tell the difference right now. He wasn’t sure how to read Akaashi yet.

“I’ve seen you in action many times now, but I don’t think we’ve actually spoken at length,” Akaashi said as they walked through the doors.

“Action?”

“Volleyball,” he expounded. “I come to the games. And practice, occasionally.”

“You were Bokuto’s setter in high school,” Iwaizumi remembered. How could he have forgotten? Bokuto had gone on and on about his skills and their success as teammates the whole beginning of their first season together; it had taken a while for him and Oikawa to find a good rhythm together. Iwaizumi was pretty sure he had only beaten Bokuto out for the ace position because he had worked with Oikawa for so long.

 The other man nodded, eyes flicking to him. He took another drink from his mug.

“I was.”

Iwaizumi scuffed at the floor with his shoes, wincing when it squeaked across the tile of the entrance way. “I don’t remember seeing you at tryouts this year though.”

“That would be because I didn’t try out.” He lifted a hand when someone behind Akaashi called out his name. His hands were large; perhaps a bit too large for the rest of him, but they were elegant. He made even such a simple movement graceful.

And familiar.

_A pair of hands, turning the pages of a book._

Iwaizumi coughed, trying to shove that particular memory away.

“That’s a shame,” Iwaizumi said, floundering for words that would continue the conversation. “I would have liked to see you in action, too.”

Akaashi hummed low in his throat, a tiny smile playing on his lips as he regarded Iwaizumi. “I didn’t much fancy competing with Oikawa Tooru. I doubt there is anyone would could compete, for that matter.”

Iwaizumi frowned. “He got where he is through hard work, same as everyone else.”

“Please don’t misunderstand. I have nothing but respect for Oikawa and his skills.” A small furrow appeared between his brows. “It is because of that respect I declined to try out, if that makes any sense at all.”

“We have a reserve players. Can always use a good setter.”

“Mm, no, that wouldn’t do.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t help feeling frustrated with Akaashi. Did he always talk like this? “And why’s that?”

“You don’t know me very well, Iwaizumi, or else you’d know I  _do so_  hate to lose.” Someone called out Akaashi’s name again and he lifted his hand once more. “I’m afraid I have to go. It was pleasant, speaking with you.”

“Right. I’ll see you around.”

“Oh, and here.” Akaashi dug in his pockets and pressed a small, hard object into his hand before stepping past him. Iwaizumi looked down at it.

A cough drop.

A flush crept up his neck. He shoved the cough drop into his bag and headed up the stairs to his usual study table. He buried himself in equations until Akaashi was the furthest thing from his mind.

He could not, though, banish him entirely.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“It wasn’t weird, was it?” Bokuto asked him worriedly after practice that night, grabbing him by both arms and moving in close. His near-golden eyes were wide, almost frantic. He had been all over the court today, despite everyone’s best efforts at calming him. “Oh god, it  _was_  weird. I’m sorry, Iwaizumi.”

Bokuto let out a soft, pitiful groan, leaning his head against Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Kuroo passed by, gesturing behind Bokuto’s back to signal a question of whether or not he should intervene; they had been rooming together since their first year, and Kuroo did have a closer relationship with Bokuto to begin with.

But what kind of ace was he, if he couldn’t take care of him team in moments like this?

Iwaizumi shook his head.

“Bokuto.” He shook one of his arms free of Bokuto’s grasp and looped his hand around the back of Bokuto’s sweaty neck, letting him stay there for the moment. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“This afternoon,” he said, voice muffled. “When I left you alone with Akaashi. He said that maybe it was rude of me to leave you with someone you didn’t know and jeez, I hadn’t thought of it like that, you know? I wanted you guys to become friends, because you’re both really important to me, you know?” Bokuto sniffed heavily. Was he crying? Iwaizumi moved his hand, rubbing in soothing circles at what he could reach of Bokuto’s back.

“Hey, it’s okay. It wasn’t weird, it wasn’t rude, and I’m not mad or anything.”

“Really?” He lifted his head, peering down into Iwaizumi’s eyes. It was easy to forget just how  _big_  Bokuto was with all the jumping around he did. Iwaizumi shot him a smile.

“Yeah, big guy. We’re cool.” He bit back the words of  _I’d like to be friends with Akaashi, too_ , because honestly, he wasn’t sure why he felt that way. And he didn’t need Bokuto trying to shove them together.

“Oh,  _good._ ”

“Next time you’ve got something like that bothering you, tell me before practice, yeah?”

Bokuto wilted a little.

“I did pretty bad today, huh,” he sighed.

“You weren’t at your best, but you weren’t bad, Bokuto. You’re never bad,” he assured him. It was only the truth. As wild as he’d been, he could still do a damn good job, especially with the rest of the team supporting him.

Bokuto was nothing if not well-loved.

“Thanks,” he said, finally letting go of Iwaizumi and straightening up, throwing back his shoulders. Iwaizumi instinctively copied his stance, even though he’d never be able to make up six centimeters’ height difference. “Now I get to go tell Akaashi he was  _wrong_.”

There was a grin back on his face. Iwaizumi shook his head, clapped a hand to his teammate’s arm and headed to the showers.

“How’s my boy?” Kuroo asked leaning up against the lockers while Iwaizumi rubbed a towel over his hair. “Looked better after you talked to him.”

“There was a misunderstanding that was bugging him. It’s all good now.” He eyed Kuroo. Despite his relaxed posture, there was something edgy about his eyes. “Why not ask him yourself,  _bud.”_

Kuroo smiled at that word.

“Because he already ran off. Yelled something about proving Akaashi wrong, so I guess he’s got a death wish or something.”

Iwaizumi paused in drying his hair. “Death wish?”

Kuroo hummed, folding his arms over his chest. “I forget you don’t Akaashi like we do. Only thing that guy hates more than losing is being wrong, about anything.”

Something about his phrasing rankled at him.

_What are you going to say, Hajime? That he’s your soulmate so you know him better than anyone?_

No. Soulmate bit aside, he knew next to nothing about him. The color of his hair, the artful way he talked, the way he fiddled with his hands; he knew that he hated Kerouac and that he overfilled his ramen with noodles.

Kuroo snapped his fingers in front of Iwaizumi’s face.

Iwaizumi glared, baring his teeth at him.

“Easy there, tiger. You seemed pretty out of it. I asked you a question.”

“What do you want now?”

“Oikawa’s schedule.”

“Nope. Ask him yourself.”

“I already did, and he refused.”

“Then what makes you think I’m going to just hand it over?”

“Because you love me?” At Iwaizumi’s deadpan look, he sighed, tilting his head back and slumping a little. “Look, I have this big gesture planned. Only it hinges on knowing when Oikawa gets out of his classes.”

Iwaizumi sat down on the bench, pulling on his socks and shoes while he processed that.

“What kind of a gesture are we talking about, Kuroo?”

“Grand enough to win over even the Grand King, I’d say.”

“Look, Kuroo. I like you.” Iwaizumi focused on tying his laces, neatly, for once. “But you can’t build a relationship on grand gestures. It just doesn’t work.”

“Who died and made you the omnipotent overlord?”

“Kuroo,” he warned, glancing up. Kuroo lifted his hands defensively.

“I know that, alright? Trust me, I know. It’s just…”

Shoes tied, Iwaizumi stood and grabbed his bag, slinging it over one shoulder. Kuroo dogged his heels out of the gym and into the night., stepping out into his path when he turned towards the dorm apartments.

“I know it’s nothing to base a real relationship off of, when it comes down to it. But is it really that bad of a place to start?”

Iwaizumi searched his face, not really sure what he was looking for. Kuroo’s expression was open and honest, maybe a little desperate. The lights along the path cast his face in a sharp contrast of light and shadow.

“All I know is, Oikawa doesn’t get serious about a lot of things. Volleyball, aliens, biotech. And you, Kuroo.”

Kuroo kept holding his gaze though Iwaizumi could tell it cost him.

“I know,” he said, so soft. “I’m serious too.”

“I’m not the one who needs to hear that.” Iwaizumi dug out his phone, scrolling through his pictures until he found the one he’d taken of Oikawa’s schedule, and sent it.

Kuroo grinned. “You’re a life saver, man. Thanks.”

“You didn’t get that from me.”

“Are you kidding? I talked to coach, he handed it over, no question.” He gave Iwaizumi two thumbs up and started walking away.

“And Kuroo?”

“Yeah?” He turned back. He looked focused, the way he looked before a game.

“Good luck. I mean it.”

“I know you do, bud.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Get lost, man. I’ve got places to be.”

With that, he headed down the path to home, hoping to hell things would turn out okay.

 

 

 


	2. What You Said and What You Thought It Meant

“Apparently, I have you to thank for Bokuto’s improved mood.”

Iwaizumi jerked at the sound of Akaashi’s voice, drawing a ragged line down his painstakingly taken notes. Akaashi paused in the midst of drawing up a chair next to him, eyeing his notes with raised brows.

“Oh my,” he said quietly.

“Do you have to—sneak up on people like that?” Iwaizumi grumbled, staring mournfully at his datapad before looking Akaashi’s way.

“I wasn’t aware I was sneaking.”

Iwaizumi sighed, shaking his head. “What’s this about Bokuto?”

“Word has it, you helped him out of a low swing. I wanted to express my gratitude, since it was my fault.” His lips pursed slightly. “Even if helping him came at my expense.”

“Well, you were wrong,” Iwaizumi pointed out bluntly, doing his best to wipe away the line while keeping the words intact with little success. He saw Akaashi tense up from the corner of his eye and resisted the urge to sigh again. “Nobody’s perfect. Though I figured you’d be the type to always say the right thing.”

“Not always, clearly. As you said, nobody’s perfect.” Akaashi leaned a little closer. “Not many take notes by hand. Why not just type?”

“Helps me remember it better, this way. There have been studies supporting that hardcopy notes have a better chance of being retained longer than other kinds.”

“Old studies.”

“Just because they’re old doesn’t make them invalid.”

“It was simply an observation, not a criticism.” Akaashi leaned away and Iwaizumi felt a tug in his chest. “Anyway, Bokuto has always talked about his new team with enthusiasm.” A few of the other students were shooting glares their way, disturbed by their conversing. “I’m glad to know he has good friends among his teammates.”

“He’s a good guy, Bokuto is. Takes a while to get used to handling him, but I’m glad he’s part of the team.”

“He’s not an animal to be handled,” Akaashi said sharply.

“That’s not—” He winced as more glares were shot their way from the others students using the library. “That’s not what I meant,” he continued in a lower voice.

“Do yourself a favor, Iwaizumi _-san_ , and say what you mean, then.”

“He’s an acquired taste, that’s all. That’s what I mean when I say _handle._ Of course he doesn’t need to be _handled,_ he’s a grown-ass, capable man.”

They stared at each other, Akaashi still bristling defensively, Iwaizumi just trying to appear as sincere as he could.

Akaashi eventually relaxed.

“I’m…sorry. It’s just, there have been too many people in Bokuto’s life who have tried to take advantage him or didn’t appreciate him as a person. He’s too kind to notice, so…”

“So you’re like his bodyguard or something?”

“Or something.”

“Did you really think that?”

“Hm?”

“That it was rude, the way he left us together.”

_Was it really so unbearable to be alone with me?_

“Of course not, I understood his intentions. But he should have been more considerate of your feelings.”

“I didn’t think it was. Rude, I mean. Either.” Iwaizumi felt both more relaxed at hearing Akaashi didn’t outright hate him, and more tense at knowing there was the possibility for something…more. Maybe. “But what do you mean, his intentions?”

“Ah, well. Bokuto like all his friends to be friends with each other. I assume that’s what he’s trying to do with us.”

“You and he…” Iwaizumi struggled to find the right words. Hopefully words that wouldn’t offend Akaashi again. Once a day was enough, for that. “You’re awfully close.”

“The same could be said of you and Oikawa,” he responded mildly.

_Is that all it is, though?_ Iwaizumi wanted to ask, the words knotting up in his throat. The question came from deep within, from the insecure place that both wanted to believe he and Akaashi were linked, and knew he couldn’t possibly be good enough for him.

“Well, I should get back to work. Thank you again, Iwaizumi.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for.”

“All the same.” Akaashi stood, touching his shoulder in passing as he left.

The spot where he brushed his fingers tingled and distracted him from the lines of equations he was trying to wrestle with.

It meant nothing, the touch. Dozens of people had touched Iwaizumi in that same exact way, in passing.

Yet Iwaizumi felt that tug deep in his mind, deep in his chest.

Instead of chasing it down, he put his head down and got to work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Iwaizumi was following a navi-bot, in search of a specific book they only carried in print, when he saw Akaashi again. Amidst the shelves, he was reading, seated on the carpeted floor.

He wanted to talk to him again. Not because of the soulmate thing, because that was surely a load of shit—no, he wanted to get to know Akaashi because he was an enigma. He was far more interesting than he had originally given him credit for.

Iwaizumi cleared his search command from the navi-bot; it turned back to return to the center desk where they were stationed when not in use, seeming to hum irritably as it passed him.

Iwaizumi stepped into the stacks where Akaashi was sitting. He was so engrossed in his reading that he didn’t look up until Iwaizumi cleared his throat, loudly.

“Iwaizumi-san.”

“Akaashi.” He realized he had nothing to say to him.  _A little late for that shit now._ “I, uh, saw you reading. Thought I’d say hi.”

Akaashi regarded him for a moment. “So is it always your first instinct to interrupt someone when they’re busy, or am I the lucky exception?”

Iwaizumi snorted, crossing his arms defensively. “Aren’t you supposed to be working right now anyway, Mr. Student Librarian?”

Akaashi covered his smile with one hand, closing the book with the other. “Going to tell on me?”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “I’m not your boss. Not my problem.” He peered down at the title of the book he had been so captivated by. “Fairy tales?” he asked, incredulous.

“Folklore,” Akaashi corrected.

“Don’t see much of a difference between the two, honestly.”

“The education system has failed you, then.” Akaashi got to his feet. He was taller than Iwaizumi; just by a little bit, a handful of centimeters, but it was enough. Was he doomed to be surrounded by people taller than him? “Folklore has to do with culture and customs, belief systems. Fairy tales are, well. Just what it says on the box.”

“Doesn’t explain why you’re reading it.”

“It may surprise you, but some people find enjoyment from reading.”

“So, for fun?” He chose to ignore the unsubtle insult.

 “You could say that, yes.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t see the appeal in reading ‘for fun’ unless it was comics, but to each their own. He hadn’t pegged Akaashi as a lover of fantasy. It didn’t suit Iwaizumi’s image of him as stoic and logical to the core.

There really wasn’t a nice way to tell him that. 

“What’s your major?” he blurted out instead.

Akaashi, for his part, went along with the abrupt topic change without question. He returned the book to the shelf, leaning closer to Iwaizumi as he did so. “ _Majors_. Plural.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw nearly dropped. “You’re kidding, right?”

A crooked little half-smile pulled at his lips. “Sometimes I wish I was, but no. Literature and Anthropology. Plus a minor is Cultural Studies.”

“How are you alive?”

“Caffeine, mostly.”

Iwaizumi cracked a smile at that and Akaashi smiled back, just a little.

“It’s not so bad. There’s some coursework overlap. And it’s something I truly want to be doing, so I consider that worth a few all-nighters here and there.”

“And what you want to do is…what, exactly?”

“You’re certainly full of questions today, aren’t you?” Akaashi asked, sounding amused. “I don’t mind,” he added, “I just hadn’t imagined you to be much of a conversationalist.”

The fact that Akaashi had been imagining him at all was a revelation that made something pull tight in his chest. He shoved his hands into his pockets, uncertain of what he might do with them otherwise. There was no time to really think about what that feeling might mean, because Akaashi continued on.

“I’m aiming for museum works, as a career.”

Iwaizumi could remember going to his hometown’s local museum a few times. And then going to the big city museum on a school field trip, and being amazed by all the knowledge contained in one place. He hadn’t been back since he was small, though.

It was easy to imagine Akaashi in such a place. High ceilings, preserved texts and artifacts, high-res models to interact with.

“That’s really cool,” he said. “I mean it.”

Akaashi hummed low in his throat. “And what about you, Iwaizumi? What do you study?”

“Chemical Engineering.” Far less romantic, far more job opportunities. He had a mind for math, and he loved the universality of it. Even if he wasn’t a magical math whiz like Oikawa, he could get the job done, and done well.

“Hm. I hadn’t figured you’d choose something so…complicated.”

Iwaizumi squinted at him. “You calling me stupid?”

“No, just, well,” he shrugged. “Simple. There’s a difference.”

Iwaizumi looked away, scanning the shelves. More folklore and mythology. He hadn’t realized the library had so much of it in stock.

He hadn’t realized a lot of things.

Suddenly he couldn’t bear to be there, one moment longer.

“I should go. Have a book to find. I didn’t mean to interrupt for so long.” He started stepping away.

“It was a welcome interruption, Iwaizumi-san.”

“Just Iwaizumi.”

Akaashi smiled again. “Iwaizumi.”

Flushing inexplicably red, Iwaizumi left the stacks.

At the last second, he recalled something Akaashi had said during the conversation and poked him head back around the shelving unit, scowling.

“I’m a damn fine conversationalist,” he said.

 And left, before he was tempted to stay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Iwaizumi rose early, as was his habit, the next morning. With classes that didn’t start until ten, he had time to make himself a proper breakfast.

He decided on eggs, since there wasn’t much else in the fridge that wasn’t Oikawa’s cold brew coffee and a lone apple.

“You’re squeaking,” Iwaizumi pointed out unnecessarily as Oikawa finally made his way into the kitchen. His friend pulled a face at him before going to rummage in the cupboards.

“I know that.” He sighed, spinning around and putting his hands on his hips. “Don’t tell me we’re out of olive oil?”

“I wasn’t really keeping track of it,” Iwaizumi admitted.

“You’re the one who cooks, how can you not keep track of it?”

“Are you sure you just didn’t leave it lying around somewhere?”

Oikawa gave him a flat glare.

“Unlike  _some people,_  I do not leave my things lying about  _willy-nilly._ ”

Iwaizumi tried to keep a straight face—really, truly, honestly tried. But that particular word combined with Oikawa’s dead serious look was too much; he burst out into a fit of laughter. Oikawa moved towards him, threateningly, and his robotic leg gave another squeak so loud that they both jumped.

Oikawa joined in on the laughter at last.

“God damn it,” he groaned.

“Willy-nilly,” Iwaizumi snorted.

“My mom used to say it,” Oikawa said defensively, heaving himself up on the counter and stealing a bite of Iwaizumi’s scrambled eggs.

“ _Willy-nilly._ ”

“Whatever, Iwa-chan. Do you have time to pick it up or should I skip out on class early? I can’t be squeaking all through practice, it’ll drive us all up the wall.”

If he was making a trip to the store, he might as well get the rest of their groceries too, which also meant he probably wouldn’t have time to duck into the library before practice tonight. He shoved aside the flare of disappointment in his chest.

“I’ve got time, don’t bother. Anything else his majesty needs?”

He tried to rescue his plate before Oikawa could eat more of his breakfast, but he held it just out of reach, stuffing another mouthful in.

He mentally added eggs to the list.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Ah, if it isn’t Ace-san.”

Iwaizumi jerked, nearly knocking over the whole row of tomato sauce as he was reaching for one can. When he turned, making sure he wasn’t hallucinating or some crap, Akaashi was wearing a smile and a tasteful blue sweater, a shopping basket looped elegantly over his arm.

He could feel himself turning red and quickly looked away, grabbing the can before any mishaps could occur. Damn, but his heartbeat wouldn’t slow down.

“Ace-san?”

“You  _are_  the ace, aren’t you?”

“Yeah but—it’s not my  _name._ I told you, just call me—”

“—Iwa-chan, perhaps?” There was something sly about his expression. Iwaizumi didn’t want to know how he found out about that nickname.

“Only one person on this earth can get away with calling me that,” he warned lightly.

“Just Iwaizumi then.”

“What are you doing here?”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow. “Shopping,” he replied dryly. “As I assume you are. Unless, of course, you are planning on making a break for it with your goods. Shall I cause a distraction for you?”

“What? No! I’m not—” he lowered his voice, casting a look around before hissing out, “I’m not shoplifting!”

Akaashi just smiled, inclining his head slightly. Iwaizumi straightened up at last, tossing the can into his shopping cart. As always, their meager height difference stood out in sharp relief to him. He could see the delicate fall of Akaashi’s long lashes against his skin, couldn’t help following the elegant length of his neck up to his face.

He looked away again. The man was a damn menace. “I only meant—you’re usually working. At the library.”

“I’m only a student librarian though. Our schedules change every so often to accommodate each other and library’s needs. So for today, I’m free.”

Iwaizumi grunted in response.

“But I had no idea you took such an interest in my work schedule. Should I be concerned?  You’re not some kind of stalker, are you, Iwaizumi?”

How could he rile him up like this with just a handful of words? Iwaizumi whipped his head around to tell him off, to find Akaashi biting his lip—obviously holding back laughter. Iwaizumi deflated at once, disarmed by how damn  _charming_ he looked.

“You’re impossible,” he groused.

“Improbable, perhaps.” His smile widened, deepening his dimple. “I thought you might be used to that, having spent so much time with Oikawa. His antics are…well-known. Forgive me, if I teased too much.”

Iwaizumi waved away his apology.

“I expect it from Oikawa. Not from you.”

Akaashi hummed, stepping closer and peering down at Iwaizumi’s datapad that he held onto loosely. His eyes—green? Black? He still couldn’t tell—skimmed over the remainder of his list. “There’s a coupon for that brand of miso available on the company site,” he commented, glancing slightly down at Iwaizumi. There was still a ghost of a smile on his lips. Iwaizumi looked away from him and coughed.

“Oh.”

“The store itself doesn’t advertise such things. Here, I’ll send it to you.”

“I can find it myself—”

But Akaashi was already tapping at his own datapad, long fingers moving with the swift precision of a pianist. He paused momentarily.

“I don’t have your contact information.”

“Right.” Iwaizumi flipped to the connection screen and they held up their datapads next to each other until the exchange was complete. A few seconds later, Akaashi finished sending the coupon to his mail.

“There. That will save you a few credits, at least.”

“Thanks for that.”

Akaashi rolled his shoulders in an easy shrug. “Any friend of Bokuto is a friend of mine.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

Akaashi smiled again, showing off his dimple. “Well, perhaps I am a bit choosier than Bokuto.”

_So you choose me?_

Iwaizumi’s heart seemed to stutter in his chest.

“You should do something about that cough,” he said, reaching into his pockets and pulling out another cough drop, pressing it into his hand before he could argue that he wasn’t sick. “It wouldn’t do for the ace to be unwell, with the season starting soon.”

Iwaizumi glared at the cough drop. It was the honey and lemon kind, the kind he preferred over the saccharine-sweet berry flavor Oikawa always bought.

“I should go,” Akaashi said, his eyes, roving over his face before he turned his head. “But it was nice to run into you, Iwaizumi.”

“Likewise,” Iwaizumi called out to his retreating back. Akaashi smiled over his shoulder, rounded the corner, and was gone.

Iwaizumi leaned over his cart, staring blindly at the goods within. Soulmate or not, Akaashi was seriously driving him batty. In the best and worst of ways.

“Fuck,” he growled under his breath, then muttered an apology to the old woman passing by who shot him a scandalized look.

 Maybe there was more to the soulmate thing than he had thought, or maybe he had a weakness for tall men with nice smiles. Either way, it was clear Akaashi was well and truly under his skin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He threw all his excess energy and frustrations into practice that night, to the point where the coach took him aside and told him to leave and go run it off. He gritted his teeth but went to go run laps around the campus, trying to find peace in the steady slap of his shoes against concrete. He jumped over cracks in the pavement, dodged around students as they appeared in his path.

By the time he felt calm enough to return, practice was over; the only one who remained was Oikawa, hitting extra serves over the holo-net.

The coach sat him down, talked about the responsibility of the ace to hold it together for the team, some other wise words that Iwaizumi couldn’t properly pay attention too but nodded along with anyway. The coach slapped his shoulder with a smile and sent him on his way, obviously thinking he had made an impression.

Iwaizumi wandered over to Oikawa, watching his form.

It was flawless as always, the metal and plastic of his leg catching the light as he ran forward into the jump serve.

“What’s with you tonight?” Oikawa asked, spinning the volleyball between his hands, not looking his way.

“Nothing, really.”

“You haven’t thrown a fit like that since high school.”

“I didn’t throw a fit.”

“Could’a fooled me there, Iwa-chan.”

“I was distracted,” Iwaizumi admitted.

“By a certain someone?” Oikawa finally looked over with raised brows. Iwaizumi folded his arms, titling his chin up.

“It’s not like that.”

Oikawa hummed, then tossed the ball he held into the basket with the others.

“Whatever you say, Iwa-chan. Just next time, leave it at the door, yeah? You’ll make the team worry.”

That was easier said than done. Iwaizumi nodded, feeling a flash of guilt that he might have worried some of them.

They hit the showers, then walked back to the dorms. Iwaizumi was still buzzing with energy, like he could have run a few more laps.

As he clambered into bed after a quick post-workout snack with Oikawa, a message chimed on his phone.

Akaashi Keiji was the name that scrolled across the screen.

_I hope it’s not too forward of me to message you this late. I heard from Bokuto that you struggled at practice tonight. I sincerely hope I was not the cause of that._

Iwaizumi read it a few times before slowly typing out a response.

_Why would you think that?_

_I’ve been known to have an unsettling effect on others._

Unsettling wasn’t quite the right word, but it was true that Akaashi threw him off-balance in unexpected ways.

_It was my own damn fault,_ he replied, mostly truthful.  _Sorry if I worried Bokuto._

_Rest assured that Bokuto is able and willing to take your position as ace at any time._

Iwaizumi snorted, curling his body around the phone as he typed,  _You’re something else, Akaashi._

_So I’ve been told. I won’t keep you up. Goodnight._

He dreamed of walking down the stone path through the university grounds, leaves crunching underfoot. The sound of laughter carried above it and it made him feel inexplicably warm.

Iwaizumi woke up and stared at the blank ceiling for a long time. The dream had been both his and not. And he knew, now, who the laughter belonged to.

“Fuck,” he said, his voice small in the cramped space of his room. Every time he went chasing after that tugging, it got a little more real. Like it was growing closer to becoming reality.

It turned out, knowing a possible future didn’t make it any less scary than not having any clue at all.

“Where are you going, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked when he stormed out of his room, headed for the door. He paused, taking in the scene of Oikawa perched on their shitty futon-couch, in front of a documentary playing almost silently on the television screen.

“Running,” he said shortly. “Go the fuck to bed, Trashykawa.”

“But it’s morning already.”

“If you knew that, you should have gone to bed sooner.” He yanked on his shoes with more force than necessary. “Take a nap or whatever or you’ll be a wreck.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” he saluted from the couch. “Godspeed, Iwa-chan.”

Even running couldn’t clear his mind completely.

With a growl, he changed his route so he could stop by the coffee shop near the dorms. He was going to get himself a goddamned coffee, a goddamned blueberry scone, and have a good goddamned day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Akaashi was working the center desk when Iwaizumi stepped through the library doors.

Without thinking about it, he changed his path to head towards the desk instead of up the stairs. Akaashi looked up at him, expression unreadable.

Was everything he felt about Akaashi a product of what happened in the Soulmate Connect, or was there really something there? That _tug_ he always felt when Akaashi looked his way, the visions, it all confused him. His usual approach to figuring things out just wasn’t working.

“Hey, Akaashi,” he said. The navi-bots were hovering all around him like a miniature protection squad.

He refused to be intimidated. With Akaashi seated, he was taller and the new vantage point let him see the tiny scar at the corner of one eyebrow. Having Akaashi look up at him made his stomach twist in a particular way.

“Hey yourself. Did you need one?” He jerked his chin towards one of the bots.

“I—no.” _I just wanted to talk to you._ “Just wanted to say hi.”

Akaashi’s lips twitched in the suggestion of a smile. “Did I look that lonely?”

“Absolutely bereft,” Iwaizumi informed him, hoping his reddening ears weren’t _that_ visible. Akaashi hummed, low, glancing down at something. Iwaizumi followed his gaze.

“Reading on the job again?”

“I am here to assist students and faculty in the usage of navi-bots and in locating nearby points of interest,” he said tartly. “Do you see anyone in need of assistance, Iwaizumi? Other than you in locating your brain?”

“You always this rude or am I the lucky exception?” Iwaizumi might have gotten angry if Oikawa had said something like that to him. Coming from Akaashi, he couldn’t even tell if it was an insult or an invitation to keep talking.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

An invitation, then? Iwaizumi decided to press his luck. He leaned his arms on the desk counter, settling in. He was beginning to wish he had worn something nicer than his well-worn Superman shirt.

“Seems like a pretty cushy job, if you ask me. How’d you land it?”

“By asking nicely.”

“Oh, so you _can_ be nice. You’re full of surprises, Akaashi.”

Another almost-smile flickered across his face. “I’m plenty nice. I applied my first year here and was accepted, that’s all.”

Iwaizumi bobbed his head in acknowledgement.

“So, is it more fairytales today?” Iwaizumi craned his neck, trying to read a few of the lines upside-down with little success.

“Folklore, Iwaizumi. And yes.”

“Why do you read them in hard-copy?”

“The same reason most people, I do. There’s something gratifying about a physical object in your hands that a digitized copy just can’t imitate.” Akaashi glanced away. “Call me old-fashioned, if you must.”

“Nah, I get it.”

“Really? You don’t strike me as much of a reader, Iwaizumi.”

“I read.” _For school. And comic books._ “I’m not some dumb jock.”

“I never intended to imply that.” A small crease appeared between his sharp eyebrows. “I simply meant you seem to be the type to be drawn to physical pursuits, more than anything else.”

“Guess you’ve got me there.”

A loud cough from behind him had them both turn their heads. Another student.

“Can I get one of the bots?” they asked, impatient.

Iwaizumi stepped out of the way.

“I’ll…see you around, Akaashi.”

“Of course.”

He trotted up the stairs to his usual table.

His phone buzzed with a message, not long after he had buried himself in the math equations he found such peace in. Oikawa. With a sigh, he tapped the message to open it.

_Did you know about this?????????_

_About what?_ he replied.

_Don’t play dumb, doesn’t suit you. Did you give Kuroo my schedule???_

Must be that Kuroo finally did that grand gesture thing he’d been planning on.

_Quit being paranoid, no idea what you’re talking about._

Oikawa forwarded a vid, clearly taken by one of the other students because he could see Oikawa’s back as he moved forward.

Iwaizumi choked back a laugh. It was the outside of one of Oikawa’s advanced bio courses, he recognized the room from when Oikawa managed to drag him to the biotech club meetings. There was a huge sign pasted on the wall, in paint that shifted from red to aqua; it read _Date me, Oikawa Tooru!_ and in smaller script, a ‘yes/no’ was visible. Flower petals were scattered all over the floor, red roses from the looks of it.

It wasn’t signed, but no one else would do something so wildly inappropriate and ridiculous.

Grand gesture, indeed.

“What do you say, Oikawa? Gonna date your mystery admirer?” the video-taker asked, holding back laughter.

“After I kill them, maybe.” Oikawa turned, eyes going wide when he saw the student was taping his reaction. “Shut that off—!”

The video ended there.

Iwaizumi put his head down, concentrating on breathing for a few moments.

His phone buzzed again and he grabbed for it blindly.

_It gets worse._

This time he sent a pic, of the outside of their dorm room. More flower petals, and a stuffed black cat with a letter tied around its neck.

_If you had anything to do with this, you’re dead meat, Iwa-chan._

Maybe he had given Kuroo a little too much encouragement, but his involvement thankfully ended there.

_Had no idea he had something like that planned. You gonna say yes?_

It was several minutes before Oikawa answered.

_I don’t know what to do. Can you come back home?_

_On my way._

Iwaizumi gathered up his things and shoved them into his bag, heading back down the stairs. Akaashi lifted his hand and Iwaizumi waved back to him, feeling almost shy, but his mind was focused on getting to Oikawa as fast as he could.

That didn’t stop him from thinking about how nice Akaashi’s voice sounded that day, how he wished he could have gotten a real smile out of him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oikawa didn’t pounce on him the moment he stepped through into their shared apartment, a sure sign something serious was up.

Iwaizumi found him on the couch, glasses on and eyes suspiciously red-rimmed, holding a hand-written paper letter and staring off into space.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi said plainly, kicking his legs out of the way so he could sit at the other end. It was a small piece of furniture, so it was crowded with the both of them there. Oikawa promptly kicked him back, making sure he was settled before dropping his feet in Iwaizumi’s lap.

Iwaizumi made a face because gross, feet, but let it be.

“Kuroo wrote me,” Oikawa said, waving the page—no _pages—_ at him.

“And?”

“And I don’t know what to do.”

“Figured as much. You gonna share what’s going in that head of yours or do I have to drag it out of you?”

Oikawa glowered at him, then sighed. He looked away, folding up the pages and shoving them into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. He reached into a bowl of popcorn lying nearby, grabbing a handful and chowing down. Probably stale, from last night.

“He said a lot of things,” he said after he was done chewing. “A lot of really _nice_ things. He said that l—well.”

“Loves you?” Iwaizumi prompted. Oikawa flushed red and ignored him.

“He said he’s ready to make a serious commitment, if I’ll have him.”

“Don’t see what you need me here for, then.” Iwaizumi grunted when Oikawa kicked him, none too gently, in the chest.

“Because I don’t know what to do! God, but you’re a shitty friend.”

“The fucking worst,” he agreed tonelessly.

They settled deeper into the couch.

“Hajime, I really don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“Do you love him too?” Iwaizumi asked. He didn’t really know the answer to that question. Oikawa always played it remarkably close to the chest, for all his flamboyant acts.

Oikawa dragged up the hood of his sweatshirt.

“Yeah,” he said, hoarse.

Iwaizumi dropped a hand on his leg, just letting it rest there, offering what physical comfort he could.

“Then you’ve only got two choices, right?”

“I guess.”

“Either you trust him when he says he loves you, or you don’t. And either way, you’ve already got your answer.”

“Love isn’t everything, Hajime. You’re remarkably unpractical at times like these.” Oikawa sniffed heavily. “What if _my_ serious and _his_ serious aren’t the same thing?”

“Am I really the person you should be asking that?”

“Hajime—”

“Just go talk to him. Not now,” he was forced to grab Oikawa by the arms when he made to leap up from the couch. “But once you’ve really thought about what you want out of a relationship with him, yeah?”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“Could’a fooled me there.”

“I’m getting juice, let go.”

Iwaizumi dropped his hold on his arms and watched Oikawa shuffle to the kitchen and slam open the refrigerator door.

“I’m seriously supposed to believe you had nothing to do with this? You didn’t help Kuroo?” Oikawa asked when he returned with two glasses of juice, handing one over to him. Iwaizumi took a drink before setting it down.

“Have I ever told you that you’re paranoid?”

“Have I ever told you you’re a shitty liar?”

 Iwaizumi shrugged. “So maybe I gave him a little nudge.”

“A nudge?” Oikawa threw a handful of popcorn at him. “You _traitor._ ”

With a sigh, Iwaizumi picked the kernels out of his hair, thankful none had slid down the collar of his shirt. “Oikawa—”

“ _Et tu,_ Iwa-chan,” he said, throwing an arm over his face.

“I didn’t tell him anything he couldn’t have learned from somebody else.” Except that little tidbit about running out for ice cream at three in the morning. He patted Oikawa’s knee, consoling. “But he was obviously torn up about you. Can’t blame me for wanting to give him a fighting chance.”

“I can and I will,” Oikawa said dully. “You, sir, are a meddler. And here I thought you hated being put between us.”

“I do.”

And yet here he was.

“You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?” Oikawa shook his head.

They talked a little longer, about other things, until the conversation died out and Oikawa flipped on a nature documentary. Iwaizumi slept and woke in the small hours of the morning with a strained neck, but a glance towards Oikawa showed he was still in a dead sleep, hair going everywhere.

Iwaizumi snapped a photo before stumbling off to sleep in his bed, leaving Oikawa on the couch. If he tried to move him, he’d wake up and never get back to sleep, and god knew he could use some actual sleep for once.

There was a message on his phone, from Kuroo.

_Any chance you can clue me in on what he thinks?_

Iwaizumi snorted.

_Patience is a virtue,_ he sent, not caring if the notification woke him up. He doubted it would, really. Kuroo could sleep through the apocalypse and be none the wiser.

He slept and dreamed a dream that was not his own, chasing down laughter and a pair of deep green eyes.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. What You Did and What You Thought You Shouldn't

Iwaizumi wasn’t one to dwell on things for very long. Maybe that was what was so frustrating about the side effects from Soulmate Connect. He was all but forced to dwell on what he had seen—what he had felt—because it refused to go away, no matter how much he tried to ignore the visions and the damned _tugging._

“One of these days, your face will get stuck like that, you know,” Oikawa commented as Iwaizumi dragged on his jean jacket to go face the autumn chill.

“You’re one to talk.”

Oikawa flashed him a coy smile and a peace sign. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

“So, off to woo the subject of your undying affection?”

“Fuck you,” Iwaizumi replied calmly, opening the door.

“You’ll end up a spinster, the way you’re going!” Oikawa shouted after him.

Matsukawa stuck his head out of the dorm next to theirs as Iwaizumi walked past, shaking his head. Eyebrows raised, curly hair even more of a mess than usual, it was obvious he had been woken up by their less than quiet conversation.

“Would it kill you two,” he yawned mid-sentence, “to pipe down in the morning once in a while?”

“Would it kill you to invest in a hair brush?”

“Honestly I think what I should be investing in are earplugs.” Matsukawa ran a ran through his hair nonetheless, blinking sleepily down at him.

“Should have figured that out first year, man.” Iwaizumi clapped a hand to his arm in brief camaraderie. Very brief. Iwaizumi considered himself a tactile person, but he knew from going through high school with Matsukawa that he was even more tactile and had little sense of personal space with his friends.

Matsukawa grabbed his sleeve to stop him from moving past. “Tell Oikawa he still owes me dinner.”

“Tell him yourself, he’s up anyway.”

Matsukawa made a vague noise that could have meant anything, but his posture straightened up a bit. “So, Iwaizumi, what’s this about undying affection? Something to do with that soulmate thing he dragged you to?”

Did everyone know that he had gone? Did Oikawa not realize how _dead_   Iwaizumi would kill him for blabbing to the whole world that he went through the process?

As he was contemplating the various ways he could torture his roommate, Matsukawa leaned down, pressing their foreheads together and smiling a little too wide.

“Just remember, I’m the one who’ll walk you down the aisle, that fateful day.”

“My parents are still alive, you ass.” He grabbed Matsukawa’s nose and gave it an unkind twist, and he backed off with a small pained noise. “And why exactly am I the bride in this situation?”

“Can’t you just picture it? Sweet Iwa-chan, the blushing bride,” Matsuakawa said, voice a bit nasal as he rubbed at his nose. Iwaizumi stepped forward, lifting a threatening fist and he ducked back into his room with a cackle of laughter, slamming the door.

“I bet you’ll be a June bride, too!” came his muffled voice, followed by peals of laughter from both him and Yaku from deeper inside their room.

“You’re so dead when I see you at practice today!” Iwaizumi shouted, pounding one hand on the door, hard enough that the flimsy thing shook.

“ _Oh,_ I’m scared now! Yaku, darling, save me!”

“I ain’t your darling, get off of me, you oaf!”

More people were starting to stick their heads out of their dorms, complaining none too quietly about _fucking sports players_ and _fucking eight in the morning_ and _I’m fucking transferring out of here._

Iwaizumi beat a hasty retreat to the outside before they could pin the blame on him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Iwaizumi!” Bokuto jumped on him from behind, wrapping his legs around Iwaizumi’s middle. Iwaizumi nearly toppled over but managed to keep his feet—just barely.

“You trying to kill me?” he groused, steadying himself against a nearby lamppost. Bokuto just laughed, snuggling his head in the space between his neck and shoulder.

“Good morning!”

“Get your ass off of me,” he said, even as he tucked his hands beneath Bokuto’s knees for better support.

“Where’re you going? Class? Breakfast? To study?”

“To study.” Iwaizumi nearly fell again as Bokuto hopped off with a cheer.

“Perfect timing! Hey, hey, Akaashi! He’s going to study too, let’s all study together!”

Iwaizumi’s stomach fluttered and he regretted having that second bowl of rice when he turned and saw Akaashi approaching, long legs eating up the ground between them. There were shadows beneath his eyes and he was holding another stoneware mug full of steaming liquid. He didn’t so much greet Iwaizumi as he blinked in his general direction. His posture was less poised than usual, his movements less graceful.

Iwaizumi could only guess that he wasn’t a morning person.

“He doesn’t take any of the same classes as you, Bokuto, I doubt he would want to join us,” Akaashi chided lightly. Bokuto pulled a face.

“ _We_ don’t take any of the same classes either! What does it matter? Study group, study group,” he began chanting.

“I’m just sure Iwaizumi has other plans—”

“It’s cool with me,” Iwaizumi interrupted. Then coughed as Akaashi fixed his gaze on him. “I mean, it’d be nice to have the company and all.”

Akaashi regarded him for a few moments more, Bokuto nearly vibrating with energy by his side.

“Well, if you have no objections, then neither do I.”

Bokuto led the way to the library, chattering about his coursework and their upcoming practice until they walked through the doors; he cut himself off abruptly, waited a few beats, then continued on in a stage whisper. Akaashi rolled his eyes, gently patted his shoulder and moved ahead to go lay claim to a table.

Surprisingly, and thankfully, there was an open one in the far corner of the first level. Bokuto was good at many things, but volume control was not one of them. That wasn’t a problem here on the first level, where it was generally acceptable to carry on conversations, but the upper levels of the library had an unspoken rule of maintaining quiet.

Bokuto dumped out his books unceremoniously all over one side of the table, leaving Akaashi and Iwaizumi to set up next to each other. Iwaizumi nearly tripped over his own feet pulling out the chair—strongly resisting the urge to pull out Akaashi’s chair for him—and then almost got tangled in the straps of his backpack as he took it off.

Akaashi didn’t say anything, but Iwaizumi could feel his eyes on him. He felt himself flush deeply red and focused intently on getting out his datapad and textbooks without further embarrassing incident.

“So what have you got going on today, Iwaizumi?” Bokuto asked.

“Thermodynamics, and Ethics and Tech, this afternoon. You?”

“Nothing! Well, I do have a group project I’m supposed to go help with in a few hours, so I guess that’s something.”

“What about you, Akaashi?” Iwaizumi asked, trying to sound natural, still avoiding looking over at him.

“Cross-Cultural Perspectives, Law and Society, and Myth, Ritual and Symbolism.” He paused slightly. “And I have a Japanese lit paper due at midnight.”

“Dude, should you even be doing study group with us?” Iwaizumi asked, finally looking at Akaashi. He was focused on drinking from his mug; there was a slight slump to his shoulders and his wavy mop of hair seemed less stylishly unkempt and simply…unkempt.

Akaashi shook his head though, straightening his datapad and the hard-copy book he had retrieved from his bag. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a stylus, twirling it once through his fingers before setting it down. “They’re all night classes and the paper’s mostly done. I am capable of time management.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I understand what you mean. I’m simply informing you that your concern is misplaced.”

His reply wasn’t sharp, but the words stung all the same. Iwaizumi swallowed and quickly looked down at his things, flipping open his textbook to a random page to avoid the sinking feeling in his stomach that told him he had insulted Akaashi, somehow.

“’kaashi, I told you we didn’t have to meet up this early,” Bokuto said, gentle. “You seem a little—”

“I’m not cranky.” His voice was sharp, that time.

“—out of sorts,” Bokuto finished with a grin. “How much sleep did you get?”

His shoulders slumped further and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t,” he admitted.

“That’s bad for your health!”

“Bo, really, spare me the lecture. I’m going to drink my tea and I’ll be fine.”

“Might need something stronger than tea.” Bokuto jumped to his feet. “I’ll go get us all some coffee! Carmel macchiato with an extra shot for you, decaf pumpkin spice for me, and…” he tilted his head to one side, squinting at Iwaizumi. “Vanilla latte, am I remembering that right?”

“Sure are.”

Bokuto’s smile brightened. “Be right back then!”

He left a silence in his wake. Iwaizumi coughed and blinked down at datapad screen, scrolling mindlessly through the notes he had taken during the last thermodynamics lecture.

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi said stiffly.

“For what you said before having coffee? It’s whatever, man, don’t sweat it.” Iwaizumi reached out, on habit, to slap him on the shoulder, before realizing they didn’t have that kind of friendship. If what they had could be called a friendship at all. He hastily withdrew the hand, scratching the back of his neck instead.

Not that Akaashi missed the movement.

“All the same. You don’t deserve that.” This time, it was Akaashi who reached out, laying his hand on the arm Iwaizumi was resting on the table. Iwaizumi was painfully aware of the brief touch, his heart kicking into higher gear for no good reason other than Akaashi kept _looking_ at him.

Iwaizumi cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Did you know that Bokuto knows—”

“—knows the entire team’s coffee order?” Akaashi withdrew his hand at last, going back to fiddling with his stylus as he opened his textbook. “He was the same way in high school. He cares about the people around him, deeply. And he likes to be useful.”

“He’d be useful even without doing that.” Iwaizumi cracked neck, wincing at how loud it sounded above the quiet hum of conversation and white noise surrounding them. “And I mean, a person’s worth shouldn’t be judged on how _useful_ they are.”

“Very astute of you.”

“I’m being serious.”

“As am I.” Akaashi looked his way once more, dark eyes searching his for something. Whether he found it or not, Iwaizumi couldn’t tell, but he looked away after a few beats, gaze flicking quickly over the lines of text in his book.

Iwaizumi was stuck, there. Usually he got a bit chatty when he was nervous—and around Akaashi he was nearly always nervous. But with Akaashi, he was frozen, the right words never quite making it past his throat, instead soaring, unborn, through his bloodstream until he was abuzz with all those unsaid things.

They sat in silence, Iwaizumi trying his best to focus on his notes without much success, until Bokuto returned with the coffee, all brightness and smiles.

Akaashi seemed to perk up with more caffeine and sugar in his system, but it only served to make Iwaizumi jittery.

That didn’t stop him from drinking the whole cup, of course. Premium coffee was expensive, he wasn’t about to waste it.

With Bokuto as a buffer between them, it was easier to talk and interact more naturally. Still, Iwaizumi caught himself staring at Akaashi a few times, especially when Bokuto made a truly godawful pun about owls and made Akaashi laugh—and Iwaizumi had never heard him laugh like that, so freely, his dimple showing.

When Iwaizumi finally managed to look away, he found Bokuto watching him with an odd expression on his face.

_Shit._ He had been found out. Bokuto opened his mouth and Iwaizumi braced himself for the inevitable shout that _god damn, Iwaizumi, why are you such a goddamned creep?_

“I gotta get going,” Bokuto instead announced, shoving his books, papers, and datapad into one disorganized pile and shoving that pile into his messenger bag. “C’mon, Iwaizumi, let’s go! See ya later, Akaashi!”

Iwaizumi was about to protest that his classes weren’t for another few hours but Bokuto was staring at him, hard, and Akaashi was watching them both. He quickly stood, catching his chair before it got knocked over and made a graceless exit with Bokuto, shoving things into his bag as he walked.

“Hey, so,” Bokuto said once they were outside. “I gotta ask you something.”

“Yeah, man, shoot,” Iwaizumi said, faking a casual tone, wishing he had taken the time to put on his jacket instead of looping it around his waist as the cool air hit his bare arms.

“Akaashi would never ask himself, so I’m gonna ask for him.” Bokuto chewed on his lip for a moment, squinting into the distance. Iwaizumi’s heart was pounding again, his stomach tied in a sickening knot as all the worst-case scenarios flashed through his head. Abruptly, he spun towards Iwaizumi, pressing his hands together in supplication. “Please let him play in that practice match we have coming up!”

Iwaizumi blinked. Blinked again.

“What?”

“You know, the one we cancelled because our other setter sprained his ankle? Akaashi used to be my setter, he’s _awesome._ He could totally fill in for us and then we could un-cancel the game, and then Akaashi would get to play again and that would be _so. Cool._ I know he misses playing, like a _lot,_ and this is the perfect opportunity! Everybody wins! Please say yes, please!” Bokuto was now well into his personal space, folded hands hitting Iwaizumi square in the chest, golden eyes wide and unblinking.

Iwaizumi’s head was spinning. Of all the things he thought Bokuto was going to say, this had not been one of them.

“Bokuto,” he said slowly, “he’s not even on the team, coach would never allow it. He’s a total hardass about things like that.”

“So we don’t tell coach! We can do this unofficial-like,” he made a zooming motion with one of his hands, “under the radar.”

“Bokuto, I don’t know, man…”

The idea of seeing Akaashi in action was tantalizing. But if coach caught wind of what they were planning…

“C’mon, please!” Bokuto wheedled again. Iwaizumi sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’ll ask the team,” he said finally. Bokuto let out a whoop, snatching Iwaizumi up in a bone-crushing hug that lifted him clear off his feet. “You’re going to break my ribs,” he wheezed out, struggling to break free.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is going to mean so much to him, you have no idea!” Bokuto was already whipping out his phone, presumably to text Akaashi the news. Iwaizumi grabbed the phone from his hand, holding it behind his back.

“Hey,” he said, drawing out the single syllable like a little kid, pouting.

“Wait. Just wait. I have to ask the rest of the team. If anybody says no, that means no, got it?”

Bokuto’s pout got a little poutier.

“You’re the vice-captain, they’ll totally listen if you just say that’s what we’re going to do.”

“That would be an abuse of power.”

Bokuto sighed.

“Now you sound like Akaashi.”

Iwaiuzmi smiled a little at that. He handed back the phone and ruffled Bokuto’s hair. “I just want everyone on-board with this. Okay? And no matter what happens, remember that I said yes.”

“Yeah, okay,” he sighed again. He threw his arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulder as they started walking again. “Hey, wanna come to my group project thing with me?”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

Bokuto shrugged and removed his arm. “Your loss. I make everything better. And _fun._ ”

Iwaizumi laughed. “You sure do, man. Hey, thanks for the coffee. I’ll get you next time.”

Bokuto grinned toothily at him before darting off towards the science buildings. Iwaizumi watched him go until he couldn’t see him any longer, wondering how he was going to pass the time now until his own classes. He couldn’t very well return to the library; he’d have to sneak past Akaashi, which would be all but impossible, or go back to the shared table, which was an unacceptable option, in his mind.

With a soft sigh, Iwaizumi pulled out his phone and started typing out a group message.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He sent out a text to Bokuto a few hours later, as he filed into his first class of the afternoon.

_Game on bro._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The gym smelled vaguely of sweat and floor cleaner. The smell wasn’t exactly what he would call pleasant, but it was familiar.

It was home.

“Don’t slack on your stretching just because it’s a practice game,” Oikawa called out. Next to him Matsukawa rolled his eyes expansively. He dipped into a deeper stretch, regardless. “I don’t want any injuries on my watch!”

The second stringers were goofing off, trying to set the volleyball into the holo-basketball net instead of setting up like they were supposed to. Iwaizumi sighed, wondering if he’d have to bring them into line.

Even as he thought it, he saw Oikawa trotting over, slinging an easy arm around one of their shoulders and whispering in their ears. Moments later, they were stabilizing the holo-net and joining the rest of the team in stretches.

Oikawa caught Iwaizumi’s eye and flashed a peace sign. Iwaizumi gave him a thumbs up and returned to his stretches. They had already ran a few laps to warm up their muscles, so they were pretty much all set.

The only ones missing were Akaashi and Bokuto.

Even was Iwaizumi was wondering if Akaashi had decided to bail, the pair burst in through the gym doors, hopping into their shoes with a practiced motion.

Iwaizumi waved them over, trying not to focus on the strong lines of Akaashi’s bare legs. He wore no kneepads, which was a stark contrast to Bokuto’s long ones, and a sign that he really took this sport seriously. Only true professionals went without, people who had perfected their form down to an art.

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure whether he should be worried, or impressed. Akaahsi had been out of the game for a while, to his knowledge.

“We’ve already warmed up and we’re just doing a few stretches, but there’s time for you two to do some laps if you want.”

“Sorry we’re late!” Bokuto saluted. “But we ran here, so I think we’re good.”

“My fault,” Akaashi admitted, ducking his head and adjusting the fit of his shoes. “I apologize for the delay.”

“Hey, as long as you’re ready, it’s all good.”

“Thanks for filling in tonight,” Oikawa said with a bright smile, walking over. His eyes lingered on Akaashi, especially. “We do appreciate it. Bokuto has sung your praises, you know.”

“I believe I’m up to the task,” Akaashi responded, meeting his gaze head-on. “Thank you for the concern.”

Oikawa smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. _Jealousy. Irritation._ Iwaizumi resisted the urge to elbow him.

“You’ve been out of the game since high school though, isn’t that correct?”

“Oh,” Akaashi said lightly, not smiling but his dark eyes bright with a challenge, “I’ve been keeping my skills sharp, not to worry. I’m looking forward to going up against your skills, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa blinked slowly, once, and then his expression lightened into a real smile. He stuck out his hand and Akaashi shook it briskly. “Good man. Let’s have ourselves a game, shall we? And get some stretching in, we’re not looking for any injuries tonight.”

He walked off, clapping his hands together to call everyone to attention.

Akaashi ducked into some stretches with Bokuto while Iwaizumi half-listened to Oikawa going over the night’s game plan. First, Akaashi would just play with the second stringers’ side, but after the first match, they would switch it up, get everyone used more used to the chaos that came with a real game.

“I, um, I’m sure someone has extra kneepads,” Iwaizumi said quickly to Akaashi. “If you need them.”

Akaashi looked his way, head tilted slightly.

“Have a little faith, vice-captain!” Bokuto exclaimed before running off to join the rest of the team. Akaashi shot his retreating back a smile before returning his gaze to Iwaizumi, more serious.

“This is how I’ve always played. Well, not in the beginning. But it’s true that I’ve been keeping my skills polished.” He smiled then, touched Iwaizumi’s arm. His fingers were cool against Iwaizumi’s skin. He could feel the callouses on Akaashi’s long fingers, and then the touch was gone. “Don’t worry about me and focus on the game. I want to face you in your top condition.”

He moved off to the rest of the team as well, leaving Iwaizumi to watch him go.

“Iwa-chan, if you move that slow, then this game is as good as over already!” Oikawa shouted across the gym.

“Yeah, Iwaizumi, my grandpa moves faster than you!” Matsukawa called out.

Iwaizumi glowered and trotted over, taking his side of the net with them. Akaashi was starting out in the front, in perfect position. He met Iwaizumi’s gaze evenly.

“Newbies take the first set,” Oikawa called out primly, tossing the ball their way.

“I’m no newbie!” the player protested with a smile that was a touch nervous.

“Show him how it’s done then,” Iwaizumi called out, shooting him a smile. He nodded, took a breath, and served.

The game began.

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. He felt stiff despite his warmups, his attention more on Akaashi than on playing. His every move seemed calculated, his focus so razor sharp that Iwaizumi thought he would cut the other players with it.

His aura was that of a hungry predator.

It remined him of Bokuto, in a way, but more refined.

“Head in the game, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa called out.

“Yeah, back to earth, man,” Yaku yelled from the sidelines.

Iwaizumi gritted his teeth and let go. There was only the ball, the game, the sound of his shoes against the floor of the gym.

He never could forget that it was Akaashi he was playing against, but he stopped worrying about him, stopped focusing on him as _Akaashi,_ and started thinking of him as _opponent._

A worthy opponent, too. The game was unbearably close. Closer than it may have been with their other setter, Iwaizumi was forced to admit.

“All right, switch up teams! One more match and then we’re done for the night, guys!”

Bokuto whooped and swooped in on Akaashi, dragging him into a tight hug, before ducking down and whispering quickly to him. Akaashi nodded along to what he was saying, waving the other players assigned to their team over and gathering them in a huddle.

Iwaizumi let himself look for one moment more before dragging his attention away to listen to Oikawa speak, laying out their new strategy.

“Now, we’re going up a solid team,” he was saying seriously, “but we’ve got this. We’re going to play hard and show them all we’ve got.”

“That setter is good,” one of the players said. “Like really good. Where’d you find him?”

“He’s Bokuto’s old setter. He volunteered.”

“Should you have put them together? Won’t they like…dominate?”

“What, you afraid of some competition, bud? The real games we’ve got coming up are going to be even harder than tonight.” Oikawa patted his shoulder, glancing to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi could tell he was a little uncertain about placing Bokuto with Akaashi.

Iwaizumi nodded to him, trying to tell him it was the right choice. Their team was one of the best around right now, but Akaashi was certainly giving them a run for their money.

It was electrifying.

The holo-ref blew the whistle from the sidelines, and the game began.

Iwaizumi had already been impressed by how smoothly Akaashi moved, how quickly he reacted and adapted to the team, but seeing him play with Bokuto was an entirely different experience.

They moved in near perfect harmony, shifting through their moves like they were dancing some wild, passionate dance together.

Iwaizumi might have been jealous, had he not had Oikawa by his side.

The game ended—they had barely won, yet again.

Just as Oikawa was opening his mouth to call an end to the night, Iwaizumi grabbed his arm.

“One more,” he said in a low tone. “One more match.”

“What? Iwa-chan—”

“I want to play on his side.”

Oikawa’s eyes went immediately to Akaashi, frowning.

“Iwa-chan, I know you’ve got a crush the size of Japan on him, but go against me and you’re going to lose.”

“We don’t know until we try, yeah?”

A slow smile spread across his face.

“That a challenge, little man?”

“Who’s little? I could kick your ass, any day of the week.” Iwaizumi punched him lightly. Oikawa shook his head, but then he was calling out to the team, asking if they were up for just one more match; a short one this time, one round only. Everyone cheered, high on their wins, hungry for victory.

When Iwaizumi trotted over to Akaashi’s side of the holo-net, he looked faintly surprised.

“Cheating on your setter, hm?” he asked.

Iwaizumi shrugged, uncomfortable with his choice of words. “Gotta mix things up a little, sometimes,” he responded gruffly, rolling his shoulders to loosen up the knots that were forming there. “Sure you aren’t just scared you can’t handle me?”

Akaashi snorted delicately, stretching his arms over his head. Iwaizumi _did not_ look at the bit of midriff he bared, doing so.

“Oh, I can handle you.”

Iwaizumi would have said more, but the game was just about to start. Instead he coughed and took his place in the line-up.

He was nervous. The only setter he’d really played with was Oikawa, other than their spare setter. For all his big talk about mixing things up, he didn’t know how his straight-forward playing style would mesh with Akaashi.

_If you have time to worry, you have time to play._

Iwaizumi ignored the soft tugging in his chest, the threat of the visions he’d seen weeks ago appearing to the surface of his mind.

So he played.

He threw himself into the game with abandon, trusting Akaashi to follow his lead.

Every time they scored, the other side would take a point almost immediately back. It was frustrating, invigorating. Finally it came down to match point; the ball went back and forth a few times, but then time seemed to slow down, as if Iwaizumi was observing every movement of his team from afar.

Akaashi set the ball to him. He jumped. He spiked.

Match point.

They had gotten match point.

Iwaizumi let out a yell, running to Akaashi without thinking and pulling him into a rough hug. Akaashi let out a cheer of his own, said something that he couldn’t hear over the loud bantering of all his teammates.

Iwaizumi held Akaashi at arm’s length, very aware that he had to reach _up_ to do so.

“You were fucking fantastic, man,” he said, almost out of breath.

“Likewise.” He was smiling wide, eyes glimmering bright, sweat sliding down his brow.

Without thinking, Iwaizumi wiped it away with the back of his hand.

They blinked at each other, unmoving, until Oikawa walked over, slinging an easy arm over Iwaizumi’s shoulder and subtly pulling them away from each other.

Iwaizumi flushed red and let him.

“So, Akaashi,” Oikawa said, eyeing him up and down. “What did you think, playing against a legend in the flesh?” He flexed for him. Akaashi shook his head, still smiling, but Iwaizumi recognized it as a ploy to pull attention away from Iwaizumi. He was embarrassingly grateful for his best friend in that moment.

“It was an honor to play against you, Oikawa-san. Truly.” Akaashi hesitated briefly, gaze flicking between them both. “I’ve always been watching your games, since I started going here, but being in the action with you—it’s something else entirely.”

Oikawa cleared his throat, obviously not having expected such a sincere answer.

“Well. I hope we’ll be seeing more of you around, then, Akaashi.”

To Iwaizumi’s surprise, Oikawa ducked a short bow towards him, one that Akaashi returned even though Oikawa was already turning away, calling out for everyone to clear out before coach caught them in here.

“I do mean that, you know. Do you think he knows?”

“Oikawa? Takes a lot to get through to that head of his, but I think he knows.”

“He’s such an excellent player. One in a million, as they say, and not just because of that leg of his. I’m…very glad I got the chance to play against him.”

Iwaizumi felt his heart soften. “I don’t suppose I can convince to try out for the team next year?”

Akaashi looked away. “As I said, I hate to lose, even to someone as worthy as Oikawa-san…and yourself.”

“Hey, your skills more than measure up, Akaashi.”

A glimmer of a smile crossed his face, showing off his dimple. “I appreciate that. Bokuto always talks about you with such high esteem.” Then he grimaced. “I’m sorry, I should go. All this sweat—that’s one thing I don’t miss.”

“You’re welcome to use our showers,” Iwaizumi said, trying to sound casual and not like a creep.

So maybe he wanted to look a little more at those long legs of his. Whatever.

“No, I believe I’ve imposed enough on your team.” Akaashi touched his arm again, fingers warm this time. “Goodnight, Iwaizumi.”

Akaashi turned and left, waving goodbye to the others. Iwaizumi headed immediately for the showers with most of the team.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what Akaashi had said.

_I’ve always been watching._

He shivered, cursed himself for a fool, and jumped under the water with the others to wash off the sweat of the game.

He grabbed Bokuto as they were all clearing out of the gym.

“You’ve talked to Akaashi about me?” he asked, trying to sound casual again. Bokuto frowned a little.

“Well, I talk about all my teammates, yeah? But I guess, you especially.” He scratched at his hair, damp and down loose around his face for once. The others parted around them, calling out their cheerful goodbyes. “You’re really the one who made me feel welcome in the team, you know? And you’re always cheering me up.”

Iwaizumi wished he hadn’t asked. He could feel himself flushing red. “I do that for everyone,” he said, waving off his words.

“But that’s what I mean! Oikawa’s good at making everyone feel relaxed and stuff, but you’re the one everyone really goes to for advice and like, when we feel down. You’ve always got just the thing to say.” Bokuto grinned suddenly. “And candy. You’re gonna make an awesome grandpa one day.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Thanks for that, man. I think.”

“What! You’ll be like this sexy grump of an old man. And we’ll totally still be bros.”

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure how he felt about being classified as a ‘sexy grump’, but he high-fived Bokuto with a promise that, yes, they would still be forever bros, and trotted to catch up with Oikawa, who was waiting a respectful distance away.

“So,” he sniffed haughtily as they headed towards their apartment dorm. “How’d it feel, cheating on me with another setter?”

“It’s not cheating,” Iwaizumi protested, wishing he and Akaashi had chosen a different word. “And it was great, thanks very much.”

“That Akaashi, he’s something else. Certainly not what I was expecting. Isn’t he usually more…” Oikawa waved his hands, searching for the right word. “I don’t know, demure? Polite?”

Iwaizumi had enjoyed seeing his more aggressive, competitive side. He’d more than enjoyed that moment at the end, when they’d both been hyped about that final shot they’d made together. Akaashi had come alive on the court.

Iwaizumi just shrugged.

“Well,” Oikawa sighed. “I approve of the two of you. Even though it hurts to lose to you, Iwa-chan.”

“It was a damn close game and you know it.”

“Still. It’s not every day that someone manages to beat _me._ ”

Iwaizumi snorted. “So humble, Shittykawa.”

“I believe humility is best served in small doses.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Iwaizumi bumped into him lightly, letting him know that no matter what, he was there, with him. Oikawa smiled at him, so soft. They walked the rest of the way, arguing about new strategies they could possibly implement for the next time.

Iwaizumi slept hard, but not without dreaming of the feel of Akaashi’s body pressed against his.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He received a text, mid-afternoon, from Akaashi.

_Study group?_

Iwaizumi stared at the message for a long time, wondering if he should be reading between the lines somewhere.

_Sure,_ he replied eventually. _Meet you at the library?_

_Already here. Second floor, back left corner. See you soon._

Iwaizumi wondered if he and Bokuto hadn’t managed to find a table on the first floor, or if Bokuto was really better at volume control than he let on.

Iwaizumi hurriedly changed out of his lounge pants and shirt into something more respectable, running a quick hand through his hair, before yelling to Oikawa that he was heading out.

There was no response. Iwaizumi frowned until he remembered that he had taken Matsukawa out to lunch, finally paying up on that bet they’d had last month. Iwaizumi smiled at the empty room and left.

When he arrived at the right table, he was surprised to see that only Akaashi was there. So surprised that he came to an abrupt stop a few feet away. Akaashi glanced up with a raised brow and gestured to the seat next to him.

“Bokuto’s not here yet?” he asked, pulling out his stuff.

“Oh, Bokuto’s not coming,” Akaashi replied easily, typing up a few notes in his datapad before looking up again with a faint smile. “He’s in class right now.”

“Oh.” Iwaizumi moved more hesitantly, mind kicking into high gear as he tried to figure out why Akaashi would invite him and him alone to study with him.

“Is that okay?” Akaashi said, rather bluntly. “I know we’re not the best of friends yet, but we do get along, and I appreciate having company while I work.”

_Yet._ Iwaizumi couldn’t help lingering on that word. He smiled at Akaashi, trying again to ignore the tugging sensation in his chest, _a pair of hands turning the pages of a book_ , the way he felt heat rising up his neck.

“Sure, man, it’s cool with me.”

Akaashi returned his smile.

“I expected it might be.” With that, he returned to his notes.

Now what the hell did that mean? Akaashi was an absolute mystery to him.

Iwaizumi rolled his shoulders and neck, then promptly got to work, burying himself in his notes with determination. They exchanged a few pleasantries, but mostly they worked in companionable silence. More than once—because Iwaizumi kept catching himself staring—he saw Akaashi get distracted, gazing out the nearby window.

He felt…closer, to Akaashi, after that practice game together. He wanted to know what Akaashi thought of him, but he also just wanted to know what Akaashi thought, in general.

He had so many strange details about him, thanks to Soulmate Connect. He knew Akaashi overfilled his ramen with noodles. He knew he couldn’t stand that one author. He knew his favorite colors were gold and green, that he preferred winter to all other seasons. He knew he carried the best kind of cough drops with him.

But what did he _really_ know about him? Other than those details, there wasn’t much.

“Kerouac,” Iwaizumi blurted out. He had to know if it was really true.

Akaashi looked over at him with a single raised brow. “Full sentences, if you please.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you how you felt about Kerouac.”

“I despise Kerouac,” Akaashi answered easily. “Though I’m not sure I understand why you’re asking.”

“Curiosity?”

“Kerouac is oddly specific.”

Iwaizumi shrugged, avoiding his gaze.

“Just trying to make conversation here, Akaashi.”

“You have an odd way of going about it. Usually one would ask ‘who’s your favorite author?’ instead of assuming one has read an author and asking how one feels about it. Especially when one is asking about a foreign author.”

“You sound like a grammar textbook,” Iwaizumi said with a snort. Akaashi narrowed his eyes. They looked vaguely green today, when the light hit them just right. “All right, I’ll bite. Who’s your favorite author?”

Akaashi exhaled through his nose, tapping his stylus a few times on the table. “Haruki Murakami,” he said finally, tone short.

Iwaizumi blinked in surprise; not just at the name, but at the fact that he recognized it. “I would have figured it would be somebody obscure. One of your fairy tale authors or something.”

“I appreciate magical realism, and quality writing. He has both. Obscurity in and of itself does not offer merit. I am _not_ ,” he said, eyes flicking up and down Iwaizumi, “a hipster.”

“I never said—”

“But you were thinking it.”

Iwaizumi returned to his notes.

“You do wear sweater vests,” he pointed out quietly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Akaashi said tonelessly, reaching across the short distance between them to smack him on the arm. “At least I have more fashion sense than _some people I know._ ”

Iwaizumi dropped his own stylus, shivering at the sound of the curse on Akaashi’s lips. “You swore,” he said, putting a hand over his mouth in mock horror, to hide his embarrassing reaction. “I’m telling.”

An odd smile pulled at Akaashi’s lips. He leaned in close, close, closer still, until his face was mere inches away.

“And who the fuck,” he whispered, “are you going to fucking tell, Iwaizumi?”

“T-That’s just wrong,” he muttered. Akaashi’s smile widened. This close, his breath was warm on his skin. He stayed there, just a few beats longer, before backing off and returning to his own notes like nothing had happened.

“I’ll tell Bokuto,” Iwaizumi managed to croak out.

“You do that,” Akaashi said, still smiling. “Let’s see if he believes you over me.”

“You’d lie?”

“Everybody lies, Iwaizumi.”

“Yeah, but…”

Akaashi looked him over again.

“Am I making you come to terms with some things, here?”

“You’re just very…conniving.”

“Perhaps it’s more that you are simply naïve, Iwaizumi.”

Again, the sound of his name on Akaashi’s lips. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the swearing, or the soft caress Akaashi spoke his name in. Iwaizumi coughed, staring mindlessly down at the partially finished equation on his datapad.

Was this flirting? Or was it friendly banter?

As if someone like Akaashi would _flirt_ with the likes of him. He relaxed a little at that thought. It took some of the pressure off, if not all. He still wanted Akaashi to like him, of course, still wanted to be around him as much as he could, but the simple fact was that Akaashi was too _good_ for him. Maybe the soulmate thing wasn’t all a bag of lies, but it couldn’t all be perfectly true.

And Iwaizumi would never say no to having another good friend in his life.

With that in mind, he returned to his work with a smile.

“Dinner?” Iwaizumi asked some hours later, when the sun had all but disappeared from view. He checked his phone for the time and winced at how late it was.

Akaashi checked the time on his phone as well and _tsk_ ed softly to himself. “I’m supposed to be meeting Bokuto for dinner,” he said, almost apologetically.

“Got it. Well, next time maybe.”

Akaashi caught his arm as he started shoving his things into his bag. Iwaizumi froze in his grasp, swallowing hard. “You’re more than welcome to come along.”

“I, uh, wouldn’t want to, like. Impose.”

“Impose?” Akaashi’s lips quirked upwards, just the hint of a smile. “I’m not paying for you, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi blushed. “I just meant, the two of you are close, yeah? I don’t want to get in between that. Like, I don’t want to interrupt a planned evening.”

“As if such a thing were possible,” Akaashi scoffed. “Come with. I insist. Bokuto would love to have you along, as well.”

“I, um. Yeah. Okay.” Iwaizumi tried for a smile. Akaashi smiled, just a little, back at him, then he let go and began packing up his things.

This was fine.

This was totally fine.

_A pair of hands turning—_

Iwaizumi blocked out the vision, closing down his datapad with a soft sigh.

It was just dinner. With Bokuto, too, as a buffer between the not-quite-friends-yet awkwardness that still lingered between him and Akaashi.

He sent a quick text to Oikawa as they headed down the steps.

_Out to dinner with friends tonight, you good?_

He replied nearly instantaneously.

_Friends?? I hope you mean with your boyfriend to be._

_Don’t talk about him like that asshole._

_Don’t be so pouty, Iwa-chan, it doesn’t suit you. Have fun._ The message was accompanied by a winking emoji. Iwaizumi resisted the urge to grit his teeth.

_But you’re getting food too right? No skipping just cause I’m not there._

This time it took a while for Oikawa to respond. They were already outside when his phone dinged with the incoming message.

_Kuroo and I are having a night in. Wish me luck._

_You don’t need it but whatever._

_Rude, Iwa-chan!_ This time the message came with a long string of emojis that made him roll his eyes; it did end with little hearts, so Oikawa was probably doing just fine.

“Everything all right, Iwaizumi?” Akaashi asked curiously as Iwaizumi smiled down at his phone. Maybe those two idiots were finally going to talk, really talk, and figure things out together.

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s good.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. What You Dreamed and What You Asked For

“You never told me how dinner went.”

“Didn’t I,” Iwaizumi said, toneless, poking at the omelet he was attempting to make with a spatula.

“So, spill.”

“You never told me how dinner went, either.”

Oikawa’s face went carefully blank.

“I asked first,” he said, accusatory.

“And I asked second.”

“You’re such an ass.” Oikawa marched past him, pulling down the olive oil from the pantry and applying a small amount to the big joint of his robotic leg. “Would it kill you to be informative for once?”

“You’re just being nosy.” Iwaizumi hesitated, flipping the omelet while he mused over what he should even say. “Anyway, it wasn’t a big deal. Stop making it into one.”

“You had dinner with your _soulmate._ ”

“Bokuto was there,” he reminded him. “And stop calling him that.”

“But he is.”

“He has a name, dumbass. Besides, there’s no such thing as soulmates.” He wasn’t so sure about that last statement, but he was going to stick to his guns until proven utterly wrong.

“Oh, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighed. “A non-believer to the death.”

Iwaizumi ignored him. “So what about you and Kuroo, you two manage to figure anything out?”

When he glanced over, Oikawa was frowning at the bottle of oil like it held the answers to the universe if he squinted at it just right. There was something vulnerable about the expression, something a little confused and uncertain.

“We’re dating again,” he said at long last. “Sort of a trial run. We’ll see.”

“Don’t sound so excited there, Oikawa, I might think you actually like the guy.”

Oikawa let out a huff, adjusting his frown so it was focused on him. Iwaizumi offered up a crooked smile, softening the blow of his words.

“I do like him. More than like him. I just don’t want to get distracted, you know?”

He was referring, of course, to volleyball and his future, hopeful, career in biotech. “Pretty sure it would be impossible to knock you off course. You’re one determined bastard.”

“Thanks for that.”

“I mean it.”

“Yeah. I know.” Oikawa sighed again, put the olive oil back on the shelf. “So,” he drew out the word in a dangerous tone, “now it’s your turn to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Iwaizumi persisted.

“I’ll tickle you until you talk, Iwa-chan.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, we both know that’s a lie.”

Fine. Fair was fair, anyway.

“It was—nice.”

“Whoa there, buddy, don’t overwhelm me with all the details there.”

“Shut up! I just—I don’t know, okay? It was nice, we all talked, we ate, then we went home. There’s not much to talk about.” Iwaizumi plated the omelet and took an overlarge bite to avoid Oikawa’s judgmental gaze. He chewed, swallowed, sighed. “He’s just, I don’t know, out of my league.”

Silence fell but for the sound of their neighbors shuffling about.

“Iwaizumi,” Oikawa said, quiet. “You’re being a goddamned idiot again. You know how I hate that. Modesty is _so_ not a hot look on you.”

“Oikawa, don’t even with the bullshit pep talk—”

“Hajime, I swear by all that is holy in this world, you will shut up and you will listen to me.” He took a few steps forward until he was well into Iwaizumi’s personal space, only the plate Iwaizumi held keeping him from coming closer. The few centimeters’ difference between them felt like miles just then, as Oikawa loomed over him.

Usually he wouldn’t allow him to loom, but there was something disconcerting about his gaze.

“I’m tired of this absolute _bullshit_ where you think you’re not good enough. Fuck that. I get it, everyone’s insecure about something but honestly? Fuck. That. You’re good enough. You’re more than good enough. Anyone should be honored to have caught your interest, okay? So cut out the self-depreciating crap.”

“I’m just being realistic here,” Iwaizumi said. He was caught between yelling at Oikawa to back the fuck off and listening to what else he might have to say.

“No, you’re throwing yourself the world’s biggest pity party while you moon after some guy.”

He wasn’t just ‘some guy’. But he couldn’t very well say that to Oikawa without this whole crush thing becoming an even bigger deal.

“I’m not mooning.” Iwaizumi went for another bite of the omelet, only to have Oikawa snatch the plate away from him. “Hey, asshole—”

Oikawa set the plate on the counter, grabbing Iwaizumi by the shoulders and giving him a good, solid shake.

“Wake up already. Smell the goddamned coffee. Okay, yeah, he’s your soulmate—or at least someone special to have been matched to you. But just because he’s got a pretty face and some smarts to go with it doesn’t mean he’s _better_ than you, somehow.”

Iwaizumi shrugged off his touch.

“Never said he was better. Said he was out of my league.”

“Newsflash, Iwa-chan, you’re hot stuff.” When Iwaizumi gave him a thoroughly unimpressed look, Oikawa shot him a crooked smile. “More importantly, you’re a good person. The best one I know. So just—don’t talk about my best friend like that, okay?”

Iwaizumi cleared his throat, frowning at his food to ignore that embarrassed, choked-up feeling in his chest. “Whatever. Can’t a man eat his breakfast in peace?”

Oikawa snorted, ruffled Iwaizumi’s hair. “Just remember, Hajime. Hot stuff.”

With a promise to see him later in the day, Oikawa left. Iwaizumi finished the omelet even though he wasn’t all that hungry anymore. It was different, being lectured by Oikawa instead of being the one giving the lecture.

He guessed maybe they were both growing up.

“I’ll show you hot stuff,” he grumbled, giving his plate a cursory scrub before heading out the door himself.

_“Dude, I want ice cream,” Bokuto groaned as they left the ramen stand._

_“You just had two bowls, man, you’ve got to be kidding me.”_

_“I could go for some ice cream,” Akaashi said casually, checking something on his phone, the faint blue light of the screen casting odd shadows on his face. Iwaizumi’s jaw nearly dropped. Yeah, sure, he was a student athlete, he could pack it away with the best of them. This was just ridiculous though._

_“Hey, mister judgmental, no one asked for your opinion.”_

_“I didn’t say a word, bro.”_

_“A picture,” Bokuto turned around, making a mock frame with his fingers, “is worth a thousand words.”_

_“You don’t have to come along, you know,” Akaashi said as they changed directions to head to the convenience store. “If you’d rather not get any.”_

_“It’s whatever.”_

_Akaashi laughed, tossing back his head. “You’ve said that before. What does that even mean, Iwaizumi?”_

_“I—I don’t know,” he said, helplessly caught by the sight of Akaashi’s smile, the sound of his voice. “Just like, I don’t mind. Or whatever.”_

Iwaizumi shook the memory away as the cold air hit him full-force.

He had things to do. Places to go. Shit to concentrate on. He didn’t need Akaashi lingering in his mind more than he already did.

His mom called him that afternoon. It was their monthly check-in. She talked about how things were back home, how his dog missed him, how work was going. In turn, he let her know that he was eating right, looking after Oikawa, attending all his classes.

“We’re going to try and make it to the next game.”

“Ma, you don’t have to do that. It’s a long trip.”

“No trip too long to see my boy.”

“Ma, really.” He grinned because she couldn’t see.

“Something’s different,” she said after a few beats of silence. He glanced up at the sky, wondering if the weather report was right about the coming rain.

“Nah, it’s same old, same old.”

“You sound happy.”

“Jeez, Ma, I’m always happy.”

She hummed. “Well, extra happy then. I’m glad. My boy deserves all the happiness in the world. Whatever or whoever it is making you extra happy—you hang on to that.”

They talked a little longer before hanging up, with a promise to talk next month.

Some people had made fun of him before, for being so close to his mom. But family was important to him, and people learned to keep their mouths shut, whatever they thought.

Darkness fell over his eyes.

A pair of hands, pressed lightly to his face from behind. He could feel the light drops of the rain starting to fall. Bokuto was the only person who did that to him but the touch was too delicate to be him, the accompanying delighted crow of _guess who_ was missing.

Hands shaking a little, Iwaizumi grasped the wrist of whoever was behind him. He could feel their pulse, quick and steady.

“A-Akaashi?”

He peeled the hands away from his face, tilting his head back to see.

“Hah! Told you he’d get it right! Iwaizumi’s a _genius_ at that game!” Bokuto laughed. Iwaizumi barely heard him, too busy looking in Akaashi’s upside-down face, at his green eyes—yes, they were green after all, deep, dark green—that were strangely soft today.

“Bokuto dared me,” he explained. They were frozen there, Iwaizumi with his hand on Akaashi’s wrist still, Akaashi’s other hand falling to his shoulder, his touch lighter than a snowflake.

“I’m no genius,” Iwaizumi finally said, eyes never moving from Akaash. “You’re just the only one who does that, Bokuto.”

“Aw, really?”

“We should get out of the rain,” Akaashi observed, not looking away either.

Iwaizumi dropped his wrist, reluctant, but realizing it was probably weird to keep holding on now that the ‘game’ was over.

“Yeah, um. Yeah. I’ve got class to get to actually.”

“Ah, well. I’m sure we’ll see each other later on.”

“Yeah, man, have fun!”

Iwaizumi forced a smile and stood, walking as quickly away as he could without seeming like he was actually running away.

Which he totally was, class or not.

“Hey.” One of his classmates nudged him as they filed in for the lab session. “You okay? Getting sick? Your face is red.”

“I’m good,” he answered, a little too quickly, shedding his coat. “It’s just warm in here.”

They looked at him sidelong. The lab rooms were always cold. Iwaizumi forced another smile and ignored them, focusing on getting out his datapad and prepping for the lab.

“A reminder to you all,” the hologram of their lab professor droned out, “just because I’m not physically here today does not mean I cannot _see you._ Now, let’s go over today’s lab…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Days passed before he saw Akaashi again. He was so often with Bokuto that he caught himself looking for Akaashi every time he came across Bokuto, and had to bottle up the small bit of disappointment when he wasn’t there. If Bokuto noticed something was off about him, he didn’t mention it, but he was more hands-on with Iwaizumi than normal, always sweeping him into hugs or just touching him in passing on the court.

Iwaizumi would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate it.

Oikawa seemed more at peace than he had been in weeks, even taking to attempting a normal sleep schedule; now instead of kicking him off the couch in the morning, Iwaizumi had to drag him out of his actual bed.

He was glad.

Kuroo, too, seemed in particularly good spirits, though he was an expert at hiding his true emotions beneath a shining veneer of sarcasm and wit.

Iwaizumi was happy for them. He really, truly was. But although his friends’ problems dissipating was something to celebrate, he found himself unable to. His own problems seemed to be growing at every step.

Well. One problem in particular.

“Akaashi!”

He completely missed the ball he had been winding up to spike at the sound of Bokuto’s shout, head whipping around. Akaashi stood at the entrance to the gym, presumably waiting for Bokuto. Practice had wound down for the night, but he had wanted to get in a few more hits.

“Very smooth, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, not bothering to keep his voice down.

“Shut it,” Iwaizumi snapped out, passing through the holo-net to retrieve the ball. He threw it back to Oikawa with more force than necessary. “Give me a toss.”

“So demanding.”

He did it anyway. This time Iwaizumi connected with the ball, slamming it down on the other side of the net.

Matsukawa wolf-whistled from the sidelines. “Hot damn, Iwaizumi!”

He needed new friends. New, non-embarrassing friends. He casually flipped Matsukawa off, pretending the heat in his face was from exertion.

“One more?” Oikawa questioned with a sly smile.

“I’m done,” he responded shortly, going to retrieve the ball again and tossing it in the basket with the others. When he dared to glance over, he saw Bokuto chatting animatedly with Akaashi at the doorway. “Gonna hit the showers.”

He made his escape before either of them could say anything else.

In his head and chest there was that tugging tugging _tugging._

“Fuck off,” he mumbled as he roughly toweled his hair dry.

“I didn’t even say anything,” Yaku said, only sounding mildly offended.

“Shit, not you, I was just—”

“It’s fine, either way.” The libero looked him over closely. Small, stern, no-nonsense. They got on well, usually. “The others tease too much. You like him, don’t you?”

Iwaizumi refused to face Yaku, pulling on his clothes roughly. “Don’t know what you’re going on about, Yaku.”

“Akaashi. The one who filled in for us at the practice match.”

“Sure, he’s a good guy.” He swung his bag over his shoulder and marched out past him before he could say anything else.

“Pretty sure he likes you too, you know!” Yaku called out.

Iwaizumi stopped. Glanced back.

“He’s always got his eye on you. I’ve noticed.”

“You’re wrong. It’s Bokuto he watches. Not me.” Iwaizumi turned back around but he couldn’t even take another step before Yaku spoke again.

“Believe what you want, but I know what I’ve seen.”

“Oh yeah? And what did you see, Yaku,” Iwaizumi said lowly, more growl than words. Even Oikawa knew better than to push this far.

“I saw how you two were at the practice match. And all I’m saying is, whatever it is you feel for him, I’m pretty sure he feels that for you too.”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes. Just for a moment. It didn’t do anything to quash the hope that maybe Yaku was right, nor anything to quell the anger that burned between his ribs.

“Fuck,” he said, perhaps a little too loudly, “off, Yaku.”

He let the door slam behind him.

He left by the back entrance, avoiding Akaashi entirely. His phone buzzed several times in his pocket but he ignored it.

“Hey, asshole, thanks for letting me know you were leaving without me,” Oikawa said, almost angry as he came in the door, maybe 15 minutes after Iwaizumi had thrown himself on his bed, still fully clothed.

“Whatever.”

“Did you—did something happen? Did I miss something? Or are you being a dick just for fun now?”

“Leave me alone, Oikawa. I’m tired.”

“No, I’ve seen you tired. This is not tired. This is you being sulky and I want to know what’s up.”

“Why the fuck is what I feel suddenly everyone’s business?” Iwaizumi snapped, sitting up and glaring at Oikawa. Oikawa just crossed his arms, unimpressed.

“You know, I _was_ worried about you. Guess I was wrong to think that maybe you’d like to be an adult about this and talk it out.”

“An adult—that’s rich, coming from you.”

Oikawa let out a breath, lifted his hands in defeat and left the room, leaving the door open. Iwaizumi didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of having made him get up, so he left it that way, eventually falling asleep like that.

He woke unrested and repentant, in the small hours of the morning.

Oikawa wasn’t on the couch, so he headed to his room, cracking open the door. The light from his datapad reflected in his glasses, so Iwaizumi couldn’t make out his eyes.

“I was an ass,” he said bluntly.

“Am I really the person you should be apologizing to?”

“One of them.”

“Well, I was an ass too, for what it’s worth.”

Iwaizumi fidgeted in the doorway for a few moments before giving it up and joining Oikawa on the bed. His friend made a vague sound of protest but scooted over to make room for him anyway.

Iwaizumi stared up at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. They were the special kind that twinkled softly; he had bought them for Oikawa when he turned 16.

“I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

“Could have fooled me there,” Oikawa muttered, tossing aside the datapad and settling back against the mattress next to him.

“Just, what happened at Soulmate Connect—it’s changed, everything.” It had changed the rules of a game he hadn’t known the rules of to being with.

“Actually, I think it’s changed very little.”

“Don’t talk about it like you know what it’s like, Shittykawa.”

He sighed, flipping over to face him.

“You’re still the same person. Just, you’ve got a few new bits of information in your head.”

“It’s more than that. What I feel, when I look at him,” he struggled to find any words to describe it, “I don’t know. It’s—different.”

“Why are you trying so hard to fight this?” Oikawa reached out and tugged on the short strands of his hair. “Could telling him the truth really be all that terrible?”

“We’re barely even friends.”

“Be honest. Does he really seem like the kind of man to invite someone he’s ‘barely friends’ with out to dinner, or to a study session or—whatever else?”

Iwaizumi buried his face in Oikawa’s pillow, choosing to avoid that question entirely. Oikawa snorted softly. He heard him take off his glasses and set them aside.

“You could get those fixed you know.”

“My eyes?”

“Mm.”

“I think the glasses make me look handsomer though, don’t you?”

“More like a nerd, maybe.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Iwaizumi kicked him and they both shut up for a while.

“The worst he could say is no,” Oikawa said, very soft.

That’s where he was wrong. The worst he could say was _yes_ because then what? Iwaizumi was way out of his depth, Akaashi was—no matter what Oikawa said—way out of his league, and hell, they barely had anything in common—

He remembered the feel of Akaashi’s body pressed up against his in that thoughtless hug after the match, remembered the look of his messy hair the morning after he’d gotten no sleep, remembered every god damn thing about every interaction they’d ever had.

The cough drops. The idle touches.

Iwaizumi had a feeling that if he said _yes_ he would only find the swiftest way to ruin all of that.

“Are you ignoring me?”

“Yep.” Iwaizumi grunted when he received an elbow to the side.

Oikawa, surprisingly, was the first to fall asleep, leaving Iwaizumi alone with his thoughts as he best friend snored quietly beside him. After a while, he gave it up and pulled out his phone, turning his back to Oikawa so the glow of the screen wouldn’t wake him.

There were several waiting messages on his phone. The first three were from Oikawa, asking where he was after practice, which he cleared away immediately.

But the next few were from Akaashi.

_I’m here waiting for Bokuto. Shall I wait for you too?_

Iwaizumi’s heart lurched, but he smiled helplessly as he read the following message.

_Saw you slip out the back. Either you didn’t get my message or you’re ignoring me. Be warned, I don’t take kindly to being ignored._

And then—

_I realize that last message is threatening, which wasn’t wholly my intention. I haven’t seen much of you lately and was hoping to change that._

Iwaizumi swallowed hard, typing out a reply before he could think better of it.

_Didn’t see your messages until now. Had a rough night, sorry._

His phone buzzed with a reply shortly after.

_Anything I can help with?_

_Shouldn’t you be asleep?_

_I’m certain I should be many things, yet here we are. You didn’t answer the question._

Iwaizumi hesitated.

_Nah I can handle it. Thanks though._

_If you change your mind, you know where to find me._ And then: _Shouldn’t_ you _be asleep?_

That made him smile.

_Goodnight, Akaashi._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m making pancakes. Come over.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Did you hear me?” Iwaizumi asked.

“Sorry, just checking, but am I dreaming right now?”

“Depends, do you dream about me often?”

Yaku groaned softly. “It’s five in the morning, Iwaizumi. Fuck you _and_ your pancakes.”

“So I shouldn’t make you a plate?”

“I’ll be over in a few.”

“Yaku?”

The other man sighed heavily. “Apology accepted, all right? But I’m bringing Matsukawa. He’d never forgive me if I let him miss out on pancakes.”

“Fair enough.”

Iwaizumi hung up, wincing at Oikawa’s declaration that he was calling Kuroo and inviting him too.

“You know that means Bokuto’s coming as well. Or did you forget that they’re roommates?”

“It’ll be a team breakfast. It’ll be fun. Besides, this was your idea anyway, quit complaining and start cooking!”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, muttered a few things best left unheard under his breath, and returned to the stove.

By the time Yaku and Matsukawa trooped in, still in their pajamas, there was a growing pile of pancakes on a spare plate.

“Help yourself,” he waved to the pile with his spatula. Oikawa watched jealously as they served themselves, having promised Kuroo to wait until he got there to eat. Matsukawa gave him a one-armed hug that felt like more of a chokehold as he went to sit at the kitchen table. Yaku merely pressed a hand to his arm.

“Thanks.”

“Figure I owe you anyway.”

“Do you always wake up people you owe at ungodly hours, or am I just special?”

Iwaizumi grinned and shooed him away. Bokuto and Kuroo slammed their way into the apartment not long after, full of raucous energy despite the early hour. Kuroo made a beeline to Oikawa, pulling him out of his couch seat and into the kitchen to grab pancakes; Bokuto had beat them there and was already shoveling food in his mouth, standing next to Iwaizumi.

“We’ve got chairs, bro.”

Bokuto swallowed, with some difficulty. Iwaizumi pulled a face.

“Dude, _chew first._ ”

Bokuto waved his words aside with his fork. “I’m waiting for you to finish.”

“I’m almost done, just go ahead.”

Bokuto eyed him doubtfully but went to go grab a seat on the couch that the others had dragged in from the other room.

Iwaizumi let the loud conversations wash over him, surrounding him like a blanket fresh from the dryer. It wasn’t often they had moments like these, even on their trips to and from games; moments free of stress and tension, where they could just _be._ He cherished these moments.

He shut off the stove, served himself, and went to perch on the arm of the couch, the last available seat—ignoring the way Matsukawa patted his lap in invitation. He didn’t talk much, only interjecting from time to time as he ate.

Soon enough the pancakes were demolished and the plates set in the sink to wash later.

“You’re one lucky bastard, Oikawa,” Kuroo complained. “I bet Iwaizumi cooks for you all the time.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Only because the ‘lucky bastard’ nearly sets the kitchen on fire every time he cooks.”

“That was one time!”

“One time is enough, with fire.”

“All right, kids, settle down. Much as I hate to say it, I’ve got an exam to study for. And you,” Yaku elbowed Matsukawa, who let out an _oof_ , “have homework to catch up on, and a boyfriend to call back.”

“Hanamaki would kill me if I called him this early, are you kidding?”

“You’re just saying that because you want to go back to bed.”

Matsukawa grimaced but rose from the couch, giving everyone a hug before he left. Yaku waved in goodbye to the team and they headed out the door with another thanks to Iwaizumi for cooking.

“As much as I hate to say it too, I have an early class today.” Kuroo bent down slightly and pressed a kiss to Oikawa’s cheek. Iwaizumi averted his gaze, though Bokuto watched the pair with a bright smile on his face.

“Fine, leave me,” Oikawa said, and when Iwaizumi dared a look, he was smiling too, one of his soft, genuine smiles.

“I’ll catch you later. Thanks for breakfast, Iwaizumi. We should do this more often.” He paused in the midst of putting on his jacket. “You coming, Bo?”

“Coming!” He gave Oikawa a hug, then turned to Iwaizumi with open arms. Iwaizumi accepted the hug with as much grace as he could, and saw them out the door.

A pair of arms wrapped around him from behind.

“If I had known this was going to turn into a hug-fest, I never would have made those pancakes.” He rested his hands on top of Oikawa’s.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Being you,” he responded cryptically, letting him go and disappearing into his bedroom. Iwaizumi watched him go with a frown.

Then the realization dawned on him.

“Hey, asshole, hugs don’t get you out of helping with the dishes!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He was on his way to his usual study table, when he hesitated. A student walking behind him nearly bumped into him, shooting him a dirty look as they went past. He shrugged his backpack up higher on his shoulders and changed directions, heading towards the folklore section where he’d found Akaashi before.

He wasn’t in the stacks.

As he was fighting down disappointment, he remembered there was a table back here, too, secluded. Iwaizumi stepped through the stacks, touching a few of the books as he went and watching the shelf light up in response, the projected titles gleaming in mid-air.

Because it was foolish to look, in the first place.

Because Iwaizumi couldn’t help remembering the text he’d sent him, _I haven’t seen much of you lately and was hoping to change that._

Akaashi was there at the table, his back to Iwaizumi.

A vision flashed in Iwaizumi’s mind, two figures walking down a path, leaves crunching under foot. Laugher—Akaashi’s laughter rang out in the air.

He blinked it away. If the visions didn’t plague him, would he still feel the way he felt about Akaashi? Were they two planets, ever circling around the same sun but destined for different paths?

Or maybe they were a planet and a moon, dancing around each other but never touching?

Worse, maybe he was an asteroid headed straight for him.

Iwaizumi bit his lip, decided _fuck it_ , and walked up behind Akaashi.

He dropped his hands over his eyes, barely brushing against his face. “Guess who,” he said, very soft.

He felt—god, he _felt_ the muscles in Akaashi’s face shift as he smiled, and the strangest sensation of electricity spread up his arms at the feeling.

“Iwaizumi, you know that in talking, you gave yourself away completely.” Akaashi reached up and took his wrist, tugging Iwaizumi’s hands away from his face and craning his neck peer up at him. Still smiling. He could probably feel Iwaizumi’s racing pulse.

“My voice that memorable?” he said, surprised that he managed to form any kind of sentence at all.

“It is,” he replied simply. He was still holding on.

“So, um,” Iwaizumi cleared his throat, gently pulling away, and took the seat across from him, putting a safe space between them. He couldn’t bring himself to think that sneaking up had been a bad idea, because he’d gotten Akaashi to smile, just for him again, but he was still cursing himself up, down, and sideways. “More fairytales today?”

“Ah.” Akaashi looked down at the book he was holding. “Folklore, yes.”

“Do you…I don’t know, do you really believe in any of that stuff?”

“I believe that stories serve a cultural purpose. And that they bring people together.”

“I just figured you for,” Iwaizumi struggled to find the right words, the best words, “you know, mister logical. I guess.”

“Choosing to believe in stories is human nature at its purest, I think. But really, it’s less about the stories and more about the connections they create between people.”

“So even if a story defies all logic,” Iwaizumi said, “it still has inherent worth.”

Akaashi smiled at him, eyes warm. “You’re catching on. Yes. I’ve found that logic isn’t always that much good without an emotion to guide it. Generally speaking, of course.”

“I think the Vulcans would disagree with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, Vulcans? The, uh, species?” Iwaizumi said, a flush creeping up his neck. “Please tell me you’ve seen Star Trek.” They were old films—not quite as old as Godzilla, though they were up there—but they were classics.

Akaashi blinked slowly.

“Right, clearly you live under a rock. My mistake,” he muttered.

“Is that the one with the light-sabers?” Akaashi asked, sounding oddly hesitant.

“No, oh my god, please stop.” Iwaizumi dropped his head into the safety of his folded arms. “I can’t believe we’re friends when you don’t even know the difference between those.”

Akaashi sniffed, mockingly haughty. “Bokuto made me binge watch the whole series in high school. Do  _forgive me_  if my memories of it are a bit foggy.”

“I’m unfriending you,” Iwaizumi said, voice muffled by his current position. “This was the final straw.”

“What was the first?”

“You wear sweater-vests, man, that was like the first twenty.”

“You’re going to have to get over your fixation on those at some point.”

“And you’re going to have to stop wearing them. I mean, shit, do you own one for every occasion?”

Again, Akaashi seemed to hesitate. “My mother enjoys buying them for me. I’m not one to dissuade her from it.”

Iwaizumi snorted and choked back a laugh. Akaashi frowned at him, though there was little heat behind the expression.

“Well excuse me for loving my mother,” he said haughtily.

“There’s love and there’s letting her dress you,” Iwaizumi said, voice shaking as he continued to fight back hysterical laughter. Though the word _love_ felt strange to voice around Akaashi and he immediately regretted it as he felt a familiar tug deep in his mind. He coughed and turned his head away, blinking down at the table. Safer, than looking at Akaashi’s face.

“Some of us might benefit from letting their mother dress them,” Akaashi said pointedly. He reached out and pinched the edge of the admittedly tattered sleeve of his oversized, plain grey hoodie. “Didn’t she ever teach you that clothes have an expiration date?”

Iwaizumi was frozen, torn between wanting to pull away and wanting to feel Akaashi’s hand on his arm and not just that barely-there touch.

“It’s my lucky hoodie,” he managed to grate out. Akaashi hummed low and let go, returning to his book with raised brows.

“And I suppose she never introduced you to the wonders of the washing machine, either?”

“Hey, I do my laundry,” Iwaizumi said, defensive, tugging his sweatshirt a little closer to his body. Though honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d washed this particular hoodie. It was worn thin and fraying, but still managed to be warm. “Quit changing the subject from your unending supply of sweater vests.”

Akaashi sighed, rolling his eyes expansively. “I’ll make you deal, Iwaizumi. Tomorrow, I will wear something that’s not a sweater. In return,” his eyes roved up and down Iwaizumi’s body and Iwaizumi swallowed hard, “you will wear something that isn’t a comic book reference or older than five years.”

“D-Deal,” he stuttered out.

Akaashi smiled, falsely pleasant. There was something predatory about the look that Iwaizumi both feared and liked.

Iwaizumi looked away before he started staring.

“Anyway, I think it’s cool that you like this stuff. Stories. And the whole logic needing to go hand-in-hand with emotion—I dig it.”

“Well, I can’t take full credit for that last one.” He closed his book, propping his chin in one long-fingered hand. “Being friends with Bokuto has taught me a lot in that regard.”

Iwaizumi smiled. “I can relate. Being friends with Oikawa is—an educational experience, sometimes. I mean, in the best of ways, but still.”

Akaashi smiled back at him. Iwaizumi got the feeling he should have said something else, but his mind was blank; not empty, but too full of all the possible things he _could_ say, yet wasn’t.

“Well.” Akaashi lifted his mug of tea, holding it there until Iwaizumi scrambled to grab his plastic water bottle and clink it gently against it. “Here’s to those who have made us better, and our lives richer.”

They both drank.

“You never said why you were here.”

“Homework.” Iwaizumi let his backpack slide to the ground, pulling out his datapad and tapping it on. “I concentrate better when I’m here than I do at home.”

“The pressure of the outside eye?”

“Nah. I mean, maybe that’s part of it, but,” Iwaizumi drummed his fingers against the table, “it’s more just the atmosphere, I like it. It’s peaceful.”

Akaashi hummed quietly, looking at him with a curious expression. “You always struck me as a man who thrived on chaos and action.”

“Yeah well. Man cannot live on chaos alone.”

That made Akaashi smile again, just a little. Iwaizumi’s hands still remembered the feel of his skin, tingling with the memory of it. He flexed his hands and bent his head, the very picture of a dedicated student.

Akaashi reopened his book and returned to his reading.

The quiet that fell between them was companionable, serene. Iwaizumi was vaguely aware of whispered conversations, soft footsteps, the rustling of paper and the scratching of styluses. But he was more aware of the soft bubble of space the two of them had created, untouched by any of that.

_The worst he could say is no._

Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut momentarily. Asking would only ruin their tenuous, newborn friendship. And he couldn’t do that. He enjoyed Akaashi’s presence in his life now too much to risk it, surely.

“Headache?”

Iwaizumi jerked at the soft sound of Akaashi’s voice. When he looked up, there was nothing but concern in his eyes.

“I’m—fine. I’m fine.”

“You looked like you were in pain for a moment there. I could walk you to the clinic if—”

“Really, I’ll be fine.” He started packing his things. He couldn’t handle his concern right now, let alone the idea that Akaashi had been watching him instead of focusing on his work.

It meant something.

Or maybe nothing.

“Clearly something’s wrong, or you would stay.” Now he sounded a little irritated, for which Iwaizumi couldn’t blame him.

Iwaizumi took a breath, composing himself before meeting Akaashi’s gaze.

“I’m just going to go lie down for a while. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“I know.”

And there was that soft, soft voice again. They smiled, both a touch sheepish, at each other.

“I’ll see you soon, then.”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi cleared his throat and stood, swinging his backpack into place. “See you soon.”

He was halfway out of the library when he turned around.

Who was he, running away from anybody? Anything? Oikawa had been right about him, using modesty as a shield to avoid things. To avoid meeting Akaashi head-on and being honest about his feelings to the both of them.

This time, Akaashi heard him approach from behind. He turned his head and was surprised to see him from the way his mouth fell slightly open, then shut again. Akaashi glanced down at his book, placing a finger to mark his spot before looking back to Iwaizumi.

 “I was wondering…” Iwaizumi lost all the words he had hastily practiced as Akaashi fixed his full attention on him.

“You were wondering?” Akaashi prompted.

“Wanna catch a movie with me?”

A flash of shock crossed Akaashi’s face. “Right now?”

“Not now, but. Soon. I guess. As a break from exams and stuff.” Iwaizumi cringed inwardly at how awkward he sounded. The way he spoke was brusque, generally, and that never used to bother him.

But then came Akaashi.

He made Iwaizumi want to speak soft words, ones as soft as his sheets.

“I…would like that.” Something about his reply seemed cautious, but at least he hadn’t been flat out rejected.

It wasn’t a date, he reminded himself. It was purely friends going out together to do a friend activity.

Still, he couldn’t stop from smiling.

“Cool. Let me know when you’re free.”

“You’re the student athlete, we should be working around  _your_  schedule, Iwaizumi.”

He shrugged, though he knew Akaashi was right.

“Just let me know when you’re free, and I’ll figure out what works for me.”

“All right.” Akaashi’s smile widened. “You could have simply sent me a message.”

“Yeah. Yeah I could have.”

Iwaizumi let those words linger in the air. Akaashi’s brows furrowed slightly though the smile never left.

“Was there something else?”

“Nope.” Iwaizumi let his hand rest on Akaashi’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll see you around.”

“Don’t forget our deal!” Akaashi called after him as he left. Iwaizumi craned his neck around and waved in response, his heart lighter than it had been in quite some time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Iwaizumi stared into the depths of his cramped closet.

He needed help.

In more ways than one.

He went through the shirts again, just to make sure, but there was nothing that would fit Akaashi’s standards.

Akaashi’s embarrassingly low standards.

“Hey, Trashykawa,” he yelled out. There was a muffled, questioning response that sounded a bit like _what is it, dickhead,_ from the living room. So that meant he was home. Iwaizumi stepped outside his room, clearing his throat.

“Can I borrow something of yours to wear?” he asked, enunciating the words because speaking in a rush wouldn’t make the situation any better. Oikawa dropped his chopsticks into the bowl of instant ramen he was eating, splattering broth onto himself and the couch.

Iwaizumi sighed.

“We have a kitchen table for a reason,” he said. “I’m not cleaning that shit up.”

“It’s basically water, anyway,” Oikawa waved away his irritation. “More importantly, are you asking me for fashion advice?”

“No, I asked to borrow—”

“At long last, he comes to me for aid!” Oikawa crowed, ignoring him. “Is it possible that he’s seen the light?”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Kuroo emerged from a cocoon of blankets at the other end of the couch, grinning slyly at Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi glared.

“So,” Kuroo drawled out. “Who you trying to impress, hm?”

“Oh, that’s easy—”

“One more word, Shittykawa, and I sabotage your hair products,” Iwaizumi threatened. Oikawa’s eyes went wide and he put his free hand over his mouth in affront.

“My _good sir,_ this is all _natural._ Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Mm, sure is,” Kuroo said, adjusting his position on the couch so he could lean over and brush a kiss to the corner of Oikawa’s lips.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and left them there, hoping that was the end of their demonstrative display.

“I just want to borrow a shirt,” he said stiffly.

“Iwa-chan, much as I want to oblige you, I don’t think my shirts would _fit_ you.”

“Shut up, you’re not that much taller than me.”

“I think he’s referring to the fact that you’re quite…robust,” Kuroo said, snorting out a laugh. Iwaizumi dragged his eyes down from the ceiling to glare at him once more.

“He prefers the world muscular, if you don’t mind, Kuroo.” Oikawa waved a placating hand and got up from the couch, despite Kuroo’s whine to stay with him. “Let’s go look through my closet, maybe there’s something. Otherwise I sense a shopping trip in our future.”

The idea of a shopping trip was daunting, at best. Iwaizumi prayed Oikawa had _something_ hidden away that would do the trick.

Oikawa had him try on a few things, but they were either too tight in the shoulders and arms, or too long for him. He wasn’t talking much, his eyes showing nearly the same focus as he would during a volleyball match.

Iwaizumi was fine with that. He didn’t Oikawa questioning his newly gained interest in fashion.

“Hate to say it, but that’s all I’ve got.” Oikawa turned and leaned against the wall with his legs and arms splayed, dramatic. A slow smile was creeping on his face. “You know what that means.”

Iwaizumi groaned, burying his face in his hands. Oikawa pranced from the room and he heard him ask if Kuroo wanted to come along to the mall with them. He agreed, judging from the loud bark of laughter.

“Let’s go, let’s go,” they both hurried him into his shoes and jacket. He grumbled a bit, refusing to go any faster than he was, despite Oikawa’s complaint that some of the good stores would be closed by the time they got him out the door.

It was a twenty-minute train ride there. Iwaizumi elected to stand, hanging onto the safety loop while Kuroo and Oikawa sat a few seats down from him. The car they were in wasn’t too crowded, considering the hour and that it was the middle of the week. Iwaizumi noticed them holding hands; Kuroo had his head leaned back, one of his earphones in but his head nodding along to whatever Oikawa was saying to him.

He was jealous.

It was a sudden and sickening realization, when it hit him.

Iwaizumi blinked down at his shoes—plain black sneakers with aqua laces, scuffed and ragged as his lucky hoodie.

It wasn’t that he begrudged them their relationship. He just…wanted something similar. Wanted someone to share things with.

Someone specific.

He wasn’t used to that feeling. Even the few crushes he’d had were fleeting; he wasn’t into casual dating. Iwaizumi wanted something solid, some _one_ solid.

When their stop came up, Iwaizumi practically flew out the door, ready to leave his moody thoughts in the train and to just get on with things. Oikawa shot him a strange look when they caught up to him, but he just shrugged in return.

The lights of the mall were bright, the atmosphere overwhelming. There were holograms everywhere, gleaming displays everywhere he looked. He tried to put his blinders up, following behind Oikawa and Kuroo while they laid out the plan to him.

He didn’t hear a word of it.

They set him to browsing a rack of shirts while Oikawa gathered some pants. He didn’t know where Kuroo had vanished to, but he felt it didn’t bode well for him.

“What about this?”

“No.”

“You’re not even looking,” he said, shaking the shirt at him. Oikawa still didn’t look, too busy checking the tags on a few items.

“Respectfully, Iwa-chan, you have the fashion sense of a frog.”

“Frogs don’t wear clothes, dumbass.”

Oikawa sighed, finally looked up, and smiled. He looked the shirt over, pointedly.

“No. I’m not letting you dress in something that looks like a pineapple. Happy now?”

Iwaizumi shoved the shirt back on the rack. “What the hell am I even looking for if you two are just going to use me like some glorified dress-up doll?”

“What was that, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa cupped a hand around his ear. “Thank you for taking the time out of my day to help you? You’re the best friend ever for cancelling a romantic night in with your boyfriend? Why yes, yes, I am.”

With that said, he threw several pairs of pants at Iwaizumi and ordered him into the fitting rooms with a promise that he and Kuroo would be right in with some shirts.

Iwaizumi glared at himself in the fitting room mirror, before yanking on the first pair of pants. They looked fine, he guessed, a little tighter than he was used to.

“Iwaizumi?”

“Here.” He poked his head out of the door. Kuroo grinned and handed him a pile of shirts.

“Where’d Oikawa run off to?” he couldn’t help asking.

“Hm, he said something about accessorizing.”

Iwaizumi shut the door on him, growling under his breath.

“Nice jeans. They really show off your _ass_ ets.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

The first few shirts he nixed on principle, the following few because they were uncomfortable. Oikawa eventually showed up and threw more clothes at his face, and started making him pop out of the dressing room to show them what he was wearing.

There was a green over-shirt that wasn’t so bad, a plain white sleeveless top he genuinely liked, though it was a tad boring. He didn’t mind the blue plaid shirt or a few of the graphic tees Kuroo had picked out.

But then—”

“I don’t wear sweaters.”

“It’s fall, everyone wears sweaters.”

“I don’t.”

It reminded him too much of Akaashi. He wanted to—well, he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to do, but he didn’t want to dress like him.

“Look, just try it on, and if you hate you, you don’t have to get it.”

With a sigh, Iwaizumi dragged the grey sweater over his head.

It was soft. Warm. When he glanced in the mirror, he was looking at a well-dressed stranger—or rather just a well-dressed version of himself he rarely saw. He only dressed up for giving presentations, nowadays, and always the same one nice dress-shirt and pants.

“Well?” Oikawa said impatiently. “Come on out or we’ll come on in.”

Iwaizumi grabbed the door handle just in case he got any ideas about actually barging in on him.

“It looks stupid,” he lied. “Look, I think we’re done here, okay? I only needed a shirt.”

“What? You’re getting _at least_ two full outfits.”

“Hell no.” He changed quickly back into his own clothes, returned the clothes he didn’t want, and was forced into buying several shirts and one pair of pants.

“You two head on out, I saw something I wanted to get.” Oikawa shooed them away. “I’ll just be a moment!”

“More like an hour.” Iwaizumi sighed but complied, happy to escape the store relatively unscathed. He stood outside it, shifting his bag from hand to hand while Kuroo slouched comfortably at his side.

“So, you gonna tell me who all this is for?”

“No.”

“I’m guessing the same person that you ended up making apology pancakes for Yaku over.”

“They weren’t—fucking apology anything!” Iwaizumi whirled on the taller man, who merely grinned at him.

“Easy now, tiger. We’re all friends here. I just, you know, want to help. If I can.”

“You can help by minding your damn business.”

“The offer stands if you change your mind.” Kuroo clapped a hand to his shoulder, squeezing a touch too tight. “You’re always helping everyone else out. I just want to return the favor.”

“There’s no favor to return.” Iwaizumi shrugged his hand off, heat rising up his neck. Kuroo fixed him with a look he couldn’t read before turning his head and observing the other stores.

“Come to think of it, Soulmate Connect is around here somewhere, isn’t it? That place Oikawa made you go to with him?”

Iwaizumi made a noncommittal noise. Kuroo thankfully left it at that, and Oikawa joined them about ten minutes later, with two bags in his hand.

The return journey seemed to take longer. Oikawa forced him to sit on one side of him, Kuroo on the other, so he could be between ‘two of his favorite boys in the world’. He didn’t fight it too much either when Oikawa looped their arms together.

They said goodbye to Kuroo after the short walk back to campus, Iwaizumi walking ahead to give the two of them some privacy.

Oikawa caught up not too long after, positively glowing.

“So, you’re dressing up for Akaashi now?” he asked.

Iwaizumi had been expecting that question all night, but that didn’t mean he was any more prepared for it than if it had been a surprise.

“It’s not like that,” he protested. “It’s just—we made a deal. And I didn’t have anything that would work.”

“A deal about clothes.”

“Yeah.” It sounded weirder aloud than he thought it would. “Look, can we maybe—not talk about this?”

“Well, you can’t expect me not to be _curious._ Your idea of dressing nice is, like, that one tie-dye shirt without holes in it.”

Iwaizumi knew the one he was talking about. He’d gotten it at a volleyball camp, years ago. He shrugged, swinging his bag idly. “I look good in it.”

Oikawa groaned theatrically, punching him lightly on the arm.

“That’s beside the point, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi unlocked their door and toed off his shoes, purposefully blocking Oikawa from getting in.

“Move it, you brute!” He shoved, hard, and they both nearly fell on their faces, turning it into a short scuffle that ended with them both on the floor, out of breath from laughing.

They eventually stood and went their separate ways, Iwaizumi to the kitchen to make a late dinner after depositing his purchases in his room, Oikawa to the living room.

He had good friends, Iwaizumi realized, not for the first time.

“Thanks for helping,” he called out.

“Anytime, Iwa-chan, anytime.”

He set to cooking, humming under his breath, half-listening to the cartoon that Oikawa had turned on.

Things were looking up.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


	5. What You Thought and What You Fought For

Iwaizumi was relaxing on the couch with Oikawa after their late-night shopping spree when the world came to a sudden, grinding halt.

_So you asked my best friend out on a date huh?_

Iwaizumi froze up as that message came scrolling across the screen of his phone. He snatched it up and typed furiously back.

_It’s not a date._

_The way he described it, sounds an awful lot like a date to me,_ Bokuto replied, just as quickly though with far more typos. By the time Iwaizumi had deciphered it, he had already sent another message. _I approve of course! But you better not be playing games with Akaashi’s heart!_

Iwaizumi buried his face in his hands with a groan.

“You okay?” Oikawa asked from the other end of the couch, not glancing up from where he was scrolling through something on his own phone.

“Fine.”

“You don’t sound—”

“Indigestion,” he snapped out, getting up and escaping to the safety of the bathroom. With the door closed, he leaned back up against it and slid to the floor, considering his options. He could insist again that it wasn’t a date, in which case he knew Bokuto would pass that along to Akaashi.

He didn’t want Akaashi to think it was _not_ a date.

_Get a fucking grip_ , _Hajime_ , he thought to himself.

Without further delay, he slowly typed out his reply. _Seriously man, it’s not like that._

Bokuto’s response was almost immediate. _Haha what do you mean?_ followed up by a long string of question marks.

Iwaizumi let his head fall against his knees. His phone continued to buzz with incoming messages. Probably Bokuto.

Oikawa knocked on the door.

“You drown in there, bud?”

“Can’t a man take a shit in peace around here?” he retorted back, glaring at the toilet in lieu of his friend.

“Well, some of us have plans that involve needing the bathroom before going to bed! You have five minutes before I bust in there!”

Iwaizumi sighed heavily and got to his feet. He waited until he heard Oikawa leave before flushing the toilet and washing his hands, for good measure.

“All yours,” he said brusquely as he marched past where Oikawa was sprawled back on the couch. He stuck out his leg and Iwaizumi ran into it with a clank of metal on bone.

“Fucking _ow_.”

“You should be nicer to the guy who just helped you pick out a killer outfit.”

Iwaizumi sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to step over his leg. Oikawa lifted it higher, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“What happened?” Oikawa asked softly, dark eyes searching his face. “Five minutes ago, you were perfectly fine. Now you’re all tense again. Like somebody shoved a pole up your—”

“Bokuto thinks I asked Akaashi on a date,” Iwaizumi blurted out.

That shut him up, if nothing else.

“Did you?”

“I—” He didn’t know. In a way, he had. Or at least had wanted to. “Maybe?”

“Does this have something to do with your deal about clothes?”

“That’s something else.”

“You two have the strangest courtship rituals I’ve ever had to bear witness to,” Oikawa mused. Iwaizumi glared, grabbed his leg and manhandled it back down so he could go on his way.

“You’re not going to tell me the details? C’mon, Iwa-chan, surely you owe me _that_ much,” he called after him. Iwaizumi stopped where he was, fiddling with his hands. They were a bit square, the skin rough and calloused. Nothing elegant about them.

For a moment, he saw another pair of hands, longer, graceful. He blinked the vision away.

“I asked him if he’d like to go to the movies with me some time,” he said, voice stilted. Iwaizumi turned back around, leaning his back against the wall, very aware of Oikawa watching his every move. He stilled his hands and shoved them in his pockets.

“Just like that?”

Iwaizumi sighed and, feeling unbearably awkward, gave him the play-by-play of what had gone down in the library.

“Well.” Oikawa stayed put, leaning his head back on the couch until Iwaizumi wondered whether stretching it that far hurt. His voice was slightly strained when he spoke again. “I agree with Bokuto. Sounds like a date.”

“But like…” Iwaizumi gave up on keeping the distance between them, going back over to the couch and reclaiming his spot. His phone, which was still buzzing intermittently, he placed screen side down on his lap.“I don’t know. Did it really sound like I implied a date?”

“Trust me, the implication is _there._ What I’m wondering about is your intention.”

There was a grimy can of worms Iwaizumi didn’t care to open just yet. Oikawa sat up straighter, eyes narrowing a bit at him.

“Hajime, you can’t be indecisive about this. Not when other people are involved.”

He knew. But damn Oikawa for acting like a physical conscience for him right now. “I know,” he said, voice gruff.

“What was your intention?” Oikawa asked, quiet but firm. Iwaizumi didn’t answer, and he sighed. “Look, you know I’m not going to tell anyone else. Not even Kuroo. What do you really want this to be?”

Iwaizumi kept staring at the black screen of their small television. He could see their watery reflections within.

For a moment, he wished he could dive into that screen, escape to some parallel world where he hadn’t gone to Soulmate Connect, where he didn’t have this _thing_ with Akaashi.

But he could only put off answering for so long. He composed himself as best he could.

Took a breath.

His phone rang, jarringly loud.

Iwaizumi flipped it over on his lap. It was a vidcall, from Bokuto.

_Shit._

_Shit, shit, shit._

Oikawa leaned over, frowned at the screen. “You should answer that.”

“No.”

The ringing stopped.

Bokuto called again.

“He’s just going to keep calling until you answer.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t answer though. Maybe he could tell Oikawa the truth, _maybe_ , but he couldn’t tell Bokuto, because then Bokuto would tell Akaashi, and then Akaashi would _know_ and that would be _bad._

Oikawa managed to wrench the phone from his hands and accepted the call, flipping the screen to face Iwaizumi. Bokuto’s face appeared on-screen, expression excited, and Iwaizumi forced a smile for him.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” he said, trying to sound calm instead of like he wanted to strangle his best friend.

“Hey, hey, Iwaizumi!” He flashed a big thumbs-up. His hair was down for once, probably from showering, judging from how damp it looked. “You weren’t answering your texts, so I thought I’d just call! So when’s the date with Akaashi gonna be, huh?”

“Bokuto—”

“What movie are you gonna take him to? I should warn you, he really doesn’t like romcoms—”

“Bokuto,” he interrupted quickly. “I’d appreciate it if you kept the, uh, _date_ thing a secret. And maybe don’t call it a date in front of Akaashi.” Maybe he already had, which was one of Iwaizumi’s fears.

“A secret?” His brows furrowed, and his expression changed radically. There was something dark and foreboding about his eyes, and Iwaizumi fought not to physically recoil when Bokuto brought the camera closer to his face. “You ashamed of people knowing you’re going out with him?”

“No, Bokuto, it’s not like that—” he lifted his hands peaceably. Even though it was through the phone, Iwaizumi could feel Bokuto’s anger as a physical force. “Hear me out, man. It’s not that at all.”

“You’ve got my attention.”

Iwaizumi inhaled and exhaled deeply, meeting his angry golden gaze.

“We’re friends, how could I be ashamed?” That didn’t seem to be enough of an explanation, because while the anger in his eyes faltered a little, he still glared. “Look, why don’t we talk about this later? After practice, tomorrow? I don’t think this is the right time.” And maybe he would be able to gather his thoughts better.

“I think now is the perfect time.”

“Bokuto—”

“Don’t you _Bokuto_ me,” he grated out. “You want me to keep the date with Akaashi a _secret?_ Because apparently, you’re an _asshole_ that doesn’t want people to know you’re together—”

Iwaizumi could feel panic rising up his throat as he sat there, numb, letting Bokuto’s words wash over him.

“—and let me tell _you,_ someone like that is not good enough for someone like him—”

Iwaizumi had nearly forgotten about Oikawa in his panic. But Oikawa turned the phone back around to face himself at those words, eyes sharp, smile sharper.

“Hold that thought, Bokuto. Doing good? Good. Let’s all calm down for a sec and not pretend that Iwaizumi has a single evil bone in his body to do something remotely disrespectful to _someone_ like Akaashi. You need to stop for a moment and _think._ Hear my boy out.”

“Oikawa?” Bokuto’s voice was slightly muted from this angle. Iwaizumi took the moment to take a few deep breaths, not that it helped much. “Since when have you been—never mind, just give me back to Iwaizumi, I need to give him a piece of my—”

“Oh, no you don’t. I’m not going to sit by and let you eviscerate my best friend over something he hasn’t even done.”

“Well, Akaashi is _my_ best friend. I’m just getting his back.”

“Trust me, I understand that. But what you don’t understand is that you’ve got the situation all wrong.”

Bokuto snorted and muttered something Iwaizumi didn’t catch.

“Look, just hear Iwa-chan out. If you still don’t like what you hear, by all means, continue on hating him. But I think you owe it to him to listen to what he has to say.” Oikawa looked up at Iwaizumi. “Iwa-chan?”

He nodded. Oikawa scooted closer, still holding up the phone for him, but this time so that both of them were captured in the screen. Bokuto looked equal parts confused and angry, barely meeting Iwaizumi’s eyes.

“So explain,” he said shortly.

_He and I are soulmates, according to some bizarre brain thing I underwent at Soulmate Connect, but I’d like to know him a little better as a friend first before I make any moves._

Yeah. Yeah, he couldn’t say that. True as it was.

“Akaashi and me,” Iwaizumi started, fumbling for words—any words. The right words, hopefully, but anything that would convince Bokuto not to despise him would do. “We’re not together. I…neither of us asked each other out. Okay? So this movie thing, it’s like testing the waters or some shit.”

Bokuto looked at him finally.

“You’re saying it’s in the air? You’re not official?”

Iwaizumi could only envision that moment in volleyball, when the ball was heading into position, when he had just jumped to meet it—that single moment where time was suspended.

“Yeah, man, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

A door slammed on Bokuto’s end of the call and he heard Kuroo’s voice in the distance shouting, _honey, I’m home!_

“I should go, I guess,” Bokuto said, brows drawing closer together. “We can talk later?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

He ended the call abruptly, the screen going black.

“Well,” Oikawa said, tossing the phone aside and throwing an arm over Iwaizumi’s shoulders, squeezing tight. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“I’ve never seen him that angry.”

“Well, you’re involved with his best friend. I get the feeling.” Oikawa squeezed a little tighter, leaning in closer. Iwaizumi leaned back against him. “Bokuto didn’t always have a lot of friends. He told me that Akaashi was one of the first.”

Iwaizumi’s heart melted. Bokuto was an acquired taste, sure, but he was a good person. One of the best he knew. The idea of him going through life lonely hurt.

He’d had Oikawa around for as long as he could remember.

He couldn’t imagine _not_ having had him around.

“You never got to answer my question, you know.”

“Hm?”

“About what you want this movie thing with Akaashi to be.”

Iwaizumi sighed, bowing his head forward. Oikawa threw his other arm around him in an awkwardly angled hug.

“Well, whatever the answer is, you want to know what I think?”

“I think you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not,” Iwaizumi grumbled.

Oikawa ignored that.

 “I think the only thing holding you back right now is yourself. That’s not the Iwa-chan I know. The Iwa-chan I know is always charging straight ahead, no matter what. The—the Hajime I know isn’t afraid of anything or anyone.”

“Dumbass, everyone’s afraid of something.”

“Not you.” Oikawa gently pushed him off, a weird kind of guilty smile on his face. “I have something to give you. Hold on.” He stood up and ducked into his room, returning to Iwaizumi with a suspicious grey bundle in his arms.

“That better not be what I think it is.”

He unfolded it, revealing it to be the same sweater he had tried on earlier that night. Iwaizumi glowered at the offending article of clothing.

“I told you it looked stupid—”

“—and I could tell you were lying. You liked it.” His smile grew larger and more sheepish. “And I maybe peeked a little.”

“Asshole.”

“Stubborn.”

“Dumbass.”

“Is that the only insult you know?”

Iwaizumi punched him in the arm, not holding back as much as he usually would. Oikawa tossed the sweater at him and he caught it out of reflex.

“Look, wear it or don’t tomorrow, it doesn’t matter to me. But you looked good.” Rubbing surreptitiously at his arm, he said goodnight and went back to his room. Iwaizumi watched him go until the door closed behind him, then slipped into his own room.

He laid out his new clothes on his bed, staring at them all, the sweater still balled up in his fist.

New clothes didn’t mean he was a changed person, beneath. That made him both feel better and feel worse. What if Akaashi had made the deal because he wanted to change Iwaizumi?

But then, why would he have offered to change, along with him?

Maybe, just maybe, he was pointing out that knowing each other was changing them both. Or that they had the capacity to change.

Even though he wanted to throw the clothes carelessly aside, he took the time to hang them up in his closet.

Change wasn’t good or bad, in and of itself. It just—was. Everything changed, eventually. That was just evolution in its simplest form at work. He and Oikawa had been changing together for years, he and all his friends, really.

Now, he wanted Akaashi to be a part of that.

He curled up beneath his covers after pulling on his pajamas.

His mind drifted to thoughts of Akaashi, as it so often did. His sweater vest had set off his green eyes, today, a deep shade of purple he couldn’t put a name to.

Iwaizumi wondered if that sweater was as soft as his sheets. Surely, Akaashi’s skin was that soft—

_A pair of hands, turning the pages of a book—_

Iwaizumi pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He realized that morning, with an acute sense of horror, that he didn’t have much time to meet up with Akaashi today. Certainly he wouldn’t have time to go the library, their usual meet-up spot, until late at night, when it would be near closing time.

He texted him— _not_ panicking, he just needed a god damn _plan—_

_So I forgot that I’m super busy with classes today._

_Is this your way of getting out of the deal?_ was Akaashi’s reply a few minutes later.

_Hey, I’m no coward. I’ve got a little bit of time between 2 and 3:30 if that works for you?_

He was already out the door, shouting a goodbye to the still-sleeping Oikawa, when his phone buzzed with another notification.

It was Kuroo.

_Still not going to tell me who you’re dressing up for?? Promise I won’t tell anyone else._

With a growl, he was about to shove his phone back in his pocket, but Akaashi finally texted back.

_I can do 2:30. Meet me in the garden near the library? By the bench where you sat before._

_Sounds good._

Iwaizumi hesitated, then opened the text from Kuroo. He was half-tempted to just tell him the truth, since he had probably already figured it out, knowing him.

But his pride reared its head at the last second.

_I ain’t telling you shit._

That done, he put his phone away and hurried off to his first class of the day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His classes passed by excruciatingly slow. He found himself looking down at his phone to check the time so often that his friends sitting next to him asked if he was waiting for a call; he usually wasn’t one to mess around with anything during class. He took his studies seriously.

In a way, he was waiting. Waiting for an errant text from Akaashi, waiting for time to pass even just a little bit faster.

Neither of those things happened.

Iwaizumi found himself thinking that he would never be bored in another math lecture again, if it was Akaashi who was talking him through it.

When two o’clock finally rolled around, Iwaizumi nearly bolted from the classroom to head to the garden. He would be early, but early was good.

He flung himself on the bench, spreading out territorially and grabbing the spare power bar he always kept in his backpack. It wasn’t much, as far as lunches went, but he was too nervous for anything else.

The clothes he had decided on for today were comfortable. A few people had even complimented him on his outfit today. But he wondered if it was enough.

He twitched every time he heard footsteps on the pavement headed his way, thinking maybe Akaashi had decided to show up early too. The half-hour he waited felt like an eternity, even with him messing around on his phone to pass the time.

But eventually, it was Akaashi’s footsteps he heard.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t…this.

_This_ being a pair of tight jeans that accented the length of his legs and his shapely thighs, a loose t-shirt with the word “no” on the front, and a jacket in all different pastel colors.

It worked. Somehow. His mouth went dry at the sight of him, his heart picked up its pace, and he felt—warm.

Iwaizumi stood abruptly when Akaashi stopped before him, bobbing his head in greeting.

 “You look,” Iwaizumi cleared his throat, “um, you look nice.”

Akaashi inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of the compliment, eyes roving over Iwaizumi freely. Iwaizumi couldn’t help shifting beneath his gaze, bouncing a little on his toes.

“You too,” was all he said.

Iwaizumi didn’t know what else he was supposed to say. He suddenly felt overdressed. He had, in the end, opted for the green over-shirt and sleeveless tee combo, and paired it with his new jeans that he felt still weird wearing after Kuroo’s _ass_ ets comment.

“So,” there was color high on Akaashi’s cheekbones. Iwaizumi wondered if it was a blush or merely the cold breeze. “We have about an hour, right? Would you like to get tea or—you’re more of a coffee person, we could get coffee.”

“Whichever is fine.” Tea was too watery for him, the smell never totally matching up with the taste. He craved something with more substance, more depth. But Akaashi preferred tea, he knew. He used to associate fancy teas with snobbery, but now he just thought of Akaashi. “Do you have a place in mind?”

He nodded and made a follow-me gesture. Iwaizumi slung his bag over his shoulder and they started walking. He had to increase his stride to keep up with Akaashi, but he noticed that Akaashi shortened his stride after a few moments and they fell into a good rhythm.

“I’ll admit,” Akaashi said, just as Iwaizumi was struggling to come with something to talk about that wasn’t _hey, I really like you_ or _you’re weirdly attractive in casual clothes_. “I didn’t think you could do pull it off.”

“You don’t know me as well as you think,” Iwaizumi said, slightly boastful, deciding that his late night trip to the mall with his friends was something best left unmentioned. Then, teasing, “I had my doubts too, about you.”

“No one can wear sweaters year-round, of course I have other clothes.” He gave Iwaizumi a serious side-eye. “So I suppose we both misjudged each other, yet again.”

Iwaizumi shrugged easily, his lips turning up in a helpless smile. He kept glancing at Akaashi, slightly up at his face, each time lingering a little longer as he realized the other man wasn’t noticing.

He wondered about the tiny scar near his eyebrow. Wondered how his strange taste in casual clothes matched up with his sometimes sophisticated, usually sarcastic attitude. Wondered how those green eyes could be so piercing yet so soft—

He realized he was actually meeting Akaashi’s eyes and whipped his head back straight, face flaming as he rubbed the end of his nose and coughed.

“Something on my face?” he said, sounding amused.

“I,” he floundered for a moment, “was wondering about your scar.”

In his peripheral vision, he saw Akaashi raise a hand and touch it, lightly.

“I fell out of a tree, when I was…ten, maybe? I don’t quite remember. It needed stitches. I didn’t think it was that noticeable.”

“It’s not,” he assured Akaashi. He had just spent too much time looking at Akaashi’s face. “You were a tree climber, huh?”

“Aren’t most kids?”

“I only climbed trees to go after bugs, honestly.”

Akaashi’s face broke out in a smile. “You were a bug collecting kid, huh?”

“Well, yeah.”

They reached the café Akaashi had chosen, one that Iwaizumi rarely frequented, always made a little uneasy by the dim lighting and the number of couples usually inside. He took a few quick steps so he could hold the door open for Akaashi. He shot him an unreadable look, waiting just a beat before stepping inside.

Iwaizumi followed after, wondering if he’d been wrong to do it. It had felt—natural.

Akaashi rattled off his order—some kind of tea, with sugar—while Iwaizumi ran his eyes over the menu. There was coffee, too, which was why Akaashi must have picked this particular place.

“Oh, and I’ll pay for his order as well,” Akaashi finished off with.

That startled Iwaizumi. “What? Dude, you don’t have to—”

“I insist.” His tone brooked no argument. A little irritated, Iwaizumi asked for a hazelnut latte, the first thing his eyes fell on when he looked back up at the selections available.

As they moved down the counter to wait for his coffee, Akaashi holding his tea between both hands, he shifted close, muttering in his ear—noting he had to go slightly on his toes to reach him properly, “Dude, I can pay for my own coffee.”

“Consider it your winnings.”

“My—what?”

“I doubted you could fulfill your end of the deal,” Akaashi said easily, bending down slightly to murmur his words in Iwaizumi’s ear. He shivered a little at his warm breath coasting across his skin. “But you proved me wrong. You won, Ace-san. Enjoy your victory.”

All the words he could have said, maybe should have said, were locked up in his chest, hot and heavy. He cleared his throat a little, thanking the barista when his order came up.

“Next time is on me.”

Akaashi smiled a little, eyes lidded and sly.

“If you insist.”

They sat at a window counter where there were stools, a few seats down from a pair that were clearly a couple from the way their hands rested on the counter together. Iwaizumi respectfully averted his eyes, wishing his heart wouldn’t keep racing at the thought of touching Akaashi’s hand like that.

“So.” Iwaizumi curled both hands tightly around his coffee cup, fighting the urge to fidget in place. “It’s hard to picture you as a tree-climber.”

“I had this idea, when I was little, that if I climbed high enough I could reach the sky.” Akaashi rolled his eyes, self-depreciating. “I would fill my backpack with books, climb as high as I could, and spend hours reading.”

“That’s…” It was unbearably sweet, was what it was. But he couldn’t very well say _that._ “That does sound like you, actually. The bookish type of kid.”

“I got in my fair share of trouble.” Akaashi propped his chin in one hand, gaze fixated on the view outside the window, of people passing by. “But most of my adventures were found in books. I liked mythology, even back then.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t help laughing at that. Akaashi smiled, faintly and nudged him with his elbow. “All right, your turn. I want to hear about what kind of kid Iwaizumi was.”

Iwaizumi thought about it for a moment, trying to pick out an anecdote from his childhood that wasn’t embarrassing or bland. “I don’t know, I was pretty typical. Always running around outside, getting muddy, catching cicadas. I always let them go though, I felt bad.”

“Felt bad?”

“My mom told me they didn’t have long to live, so I wanted them to be free,” he explained. Akaashi blinked, not quite surprise but something close to it on his face.

“You were very kind, even then,” he said, soft.

Iwaizumi snorted. “Not really. I used to chase Oikawa with them because he was creeped out by bugs.”

Akaashi smiled again, taking a sip of his tea. “So you grew up together?”

“Childhood friends, yeah. He lived just a few houses down and we’ve always been in the same schools.” Iwaizumi smiled a little, remembering. “He was the one who introduced me to volleyball, actually. We were going to be international champions, back then.”

“You still could be.”

Iwaizumi rolled his shoulders, took an overlarge drink of his coffee and hissed when it burnt his tongue. Even as he was reaching for his water bottle, Akaashi was pressing his own into his hands. He popped the top without thinking and took a long drink.

From Akaashi’s water bottle.

Where Akaashi’s lips had been.

He hadn’t even just tipped it into his mouth, he’d actually drank from the container itself.

“I, uh—sorry, man, I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m not a germaphobe, don’t worry.” Akaashi took the bottle from his hands when he kept holding onto it, flustered and struggling for the right words.

“So what changed?”

“Huh?”

“From the way you talk, you’re not aiming for the international championships any longer.” Akaashi slipped the water bottle back into his bag, but then his eyes returned to Iwaizumi. “So what changed?”

“I don’t know. People change, you grow up. You get different dreams.”

Akaashi _tsk_ ed softly. “You shouldn’t have to let go of your dreams just because you grow up.”

“I think we just learn to aim for things that are more achievable. Else you just end up disappointed.” Iwaizumi gingerly touched his tongue to his teeth, the burn still tingling. “Anyway, who said anything about letting go? Change is natural. Sometimes stuff just gets left behind as a natural part of that. Like,” he hesitated briefly, but decided it wasn’t _that_ embarrassing. Certainly not more embarrassing than sharing an indirect kiss like they’d just accidentally done. “I used to think I would grow up to be a superhero. Of course I left that behind.”

Akaashi shook his head. “I’m not talking about things like that. I just think—well, I think you should always aim for your big dreams.”

Iwaizumi looked at him for a long moment. “That’s pretty idealistic.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” There was a sharp edge to his tone, almost defensive. Iwaizumi smiled at him, his insides soft with wonder and affection.

“I think it’s great, actually,” he admitted honestly. Akaashi inhaled audibly, blinking rapidly a few times. He looked vulnerable—just for a handful of seconds, but it was there. Iwaizumi raised his coffee to his lips, then remembered it was too hot and hastily set it back down on the counter.

“It’s cliché of me, I know. And being idealistic isn’t exactly…practical.”

“If the entire world was practical, we wouldn’t have art. Or music. Or, you know. Any of the stuff that makes life good.” Iwaizumi was very aware of Akaashi’s gaze on him and turned his eyes to the outside world. The sun was peeking out, just a little bit, from behind the heavy clouds. “We wouldn’t have stories.”

“That certainly would be a shame.”

Iwaizumi hummed in agreement.

They sat in the quiet hum of the café, exchanging words in brief spurts before falling silent again. It strangely didn’t feel stilted. There was so much Iwaizumi wanted to say, so much he couldn’t and didn’t, and he got the feeling that Akaashi, too, was holding back. So the awkwardness was companionable, familiar even.

Iwaizumi lingered as long as he could, long after their drinks were finished, but he wasn’t much for skipping class so eventually he had to leave.

They stepped back out into the chill air together and Iwaizumi waved goodbye, wishing he had an excuse to touch him or to stand close for just one minute more.

“Iwaizumi.”

He turned back when Akaashi called him, eyes widening when he found Akaashi had moved. _He’s kind of close_. Akaashi reached a hand out and tugged at the back of his shirt, his cool fingers slipping against Iwaizumi’s skin.

“Your tag was sticking out,” he said with a brief flash of a smile. Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

Iwaizumi watched him go, not caring that he was staring. He lifted a hand, curling it around the back of his neck, where Akaashi had so gently touched him.

He was so completely, utterly screwed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He was so unfocused, he may as well have not gone to class. His professors spoke but all he could hear was Akaashi’s voice. He exchanged words and smiles and touches with his friends, but all he could feel was Akaashi’s fingers brushing lightly against the nape of his neck.

It wasn’t like him, to focus on one thing to the exclusion of all else. Not unless he was on the volleyball court.

It was unnerving.

Maybe this was what they meant when they said _head over heels,_ because he sure as hell felt like he was falling. It wasn’t an out-of-control feeling, not really, but he was nevertheless powerless to stop.

Everything about Akaashi caught his attention. Even the small, quiet things, things that maybe he shouldn’t have noticed. There was poetry in the line of his neck, music in the way he moved.

The dreams and the visions felt…more real, as time passed. More vivid. Iwaizumi began to treasure the dreams he had of Akaashi.

But he craved far more than dreams.

_Soulmates._

He was so conflicted. Each time he told himself he still would have preferred to not have gone through Soulmate Connect’s process, the same thought drifted to the surface of his mind; what if Akaashi and him and never met, without it? What if, instead of friends, they remained strangers—fucking planets circling the same sun. Always distant, never knowing.

He couldn’t bear that thought.

The soft sound of his door opening drew him up and out of his reverie. Oikawa was watching him with an odd look on his face. Iwaizumi raised his brows in question, looking up at him from his seat on the floor.

“I called for you, you didn’t answer,” he said, slightly accusatory.

“Sorry. Didn’t hear you.”

“So.” He stepping into the room and sat at the foot of Iwaizumi’s bed, nudging him a little with his good leg. “How’d it go today, with Akaashi? You didn’t say anything when you came in. I thought maybe you might need some space.”

How long had he been sitting here? Iwaizumi glanced at his phone and sighed. It was seven at night. He still hadn’t made dinner for either of them.

“It went fine. We got drinks and hung out for a bit. Talked some.”

“About?”

“You, a little.”

“Iwa-chan, I hate to say it, but you’ve got no game.” Oikawa flopped back on the bed. “You shouldn’t be talking to your crush about other men, that’s like…rule number one.”

“I don’t want a relationship where I can’t talk about my best friend. That’s stupid.”

“So you _do_ want a relationship?”

“Oikawa,” he said, warning.

“Yes, yes, okay, I guess that goes without saying. Here’s the important thing though—how’d he like the new look?”

“He said I looked nice.”

“ _Nice?”_

“What?”

“Nice is just so—so lackluster!”

Iwaizumi leaned his head against the side of the bed, his eyes falling on the sweater he had left sitting out on his desk chair. He remembered the light flush on Akaashi’s cheeks, the way his gaze had seemed to linger.

“He liked it,” he said. “I could tell. He, uh, bought my coffee for me.”

“Oh-ho!” Oikawa sat back up abruptly and roughed up his hair despite Iwaizumi’s attempts to bat his hands away. “Get it, Iwa-chan!”

“Oikawa, I swear I will punch your dumb face if you don’t stop—”

He finally stopped messing around. Iwaizumi glanced up and was greeted by a wide and genuine grin. He couldn’t help smiling back.

“I’m happy for you,” Oikawa said simply.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He stood and stretched his arms up with a groan, patting Oikawa’s shoulder on his way out of the room. “Why don’t we just order out? It’s getting late.”

“We could go the cafeteria?”

“Nope. You’ll just eat milk bread if we go there.”

“Not true!”

“So true.”

They argued back and forth about what they were going to eat before settling. All the while Iwaizumi wondered if he could ever taste hazelnut coffee again without thinking of Akaashi.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey, hey, Iwaizumi!” was all the warning Iwaizumi had before Bokuto grabbed him in a one-armed hug that felt more like a chokehold. He stumbled a little and frowned at him. He didn’t think anyone else had come into the locker room yet. He had showed up to practice early on purpose, to have some time to himself.

Bokuto’s expression was hard to read, but he seemed tense, especially with how quickly he let go of Iwaizumi.

“Hey yourself,” he said, cautious. He didn’t know if Bokuto was still holding onto that anger.

“For real, when is the date thing with Akaashi?”

Iwaizumi just barely resisted the urge to clap a hand over Bokuto’s mouth. His voice _carried._

“It’s not—”

“—not a date. You said. I still don’t get that. So, like.” He scratched at his hair a little, avoiding Iwaizumi’s gaze. “I meant what I said, that Akaashi doesn’t like romcoms. I dragged him along to one once and _hoo, boy_ was that a mistake.”

The fact that Bokuto apparently enjoyed romcoms was amusing though unsurprising, but Iwaizumi didn’t have time to focus on that.

“We should talk, yeah?” Iwaizumi forced out.

“I think so, yeah. Because I still don’t get why you want this to be a secret. But I also know you’re not really an asshole, I just—I’m just trying to look out for Akaashi.”

“Bokuto—”

“Lil’ Bo, my best bro!” Kuroo appeared behind Bokuto, startling them both. and slung an arm around Bokuto’s shoulders. He took in the heavy tension between them with slightly narrowed eyes. “What’s going on here, best bro?”

“Nothing,” Bokutuo said shortly, voice tight.

It was a miracle that the other team members hadn’t trooped in yet, that the coach hadn’t arrived yet. He needed to act fast.

“We just had a, uh, misunderstanding,” Iwaizumi said, just as short. Bokuto sighed and nodded.

“Yeah, I got mad.”

“You? You hardly ever get mad, I don’t believe that for a second,” Kuroo said. Bokuto, frowning, shrugged out of Kuroo’s hold.

“I got mad, okay? I thought Iwaizumi was ashamed to be going on a date with Akaashi.”

_God fucking damn it._

Kuroo’s eyes slid to Iwaizumi for a moment before going back to Bokuto.

“Bo, you know Iwaizumi, I’m sure it’s not like that—”

Bokuto snapped. He shoved Kuroo, hard, with both hands up against the lockers. Iwaizumi lifted his hands, wondering if he should physically intervene. “I was wrong, okay?” he said, nearly shouting. “I _get it already._ God, why does everything have to be my fault?”

“What the _hell_ is going on here?”

So much for miracles.

“Nothing, coach,” Iwaizumi replied smoothly, dropping his hands back to his sides. Bokuto didn’t look any less frustrated, but let go of Kuroo as their coach approached, expression tight and unhappy.

“Like hell it’s nothing.”

“Respectfully, coach,” Kuroo started to say, only to have him throw up a silencing hand.

“Shut it. I don’t tolerate violence on my team.”

“It wasn’t—”

“Did I ask for commentary? Hm? Here’s a clue; no.” Kuroo fell quiet. Iwaizumi folded his hands behind his back, twitchy with unused energy. The other team members were starting to file into the locker room and were staring, Oikawa especially. “I don’t give a shit what kind of problem you three suddenly have with each other, this kind of tomfoolery has no place on my team. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused.

“Good. No practice for you three. Go run laps and report back to me after. And I think it goes without saying, but get your heads out of your asses while you’re out there.”

“But, coach, we’ve got a game coming up—”

“Unless you’d rather be suspended from first string?” He raised an eyebrow. Bokuto subsided, some of the anger draining from him. “That’s what I thought. Get going. I’ve got a practice to run and you’re underfoot.”

He walked away towards the rest of the team, clapping his hands to bring them all to attention. They watched him go with a helpless kind of frustration.

“C’mon,” Iwaizumi muttered, heading for the doors. He could feel the other two fall in step behind him.

Once they started running, Iwaizumie pulled out in front of Bokuto and Kuroo, maintaining a purposeful distance. Iwaizumi stared blindly forward into the darkness, wishing the cool air would clear his mind.

He fell into a steady rhythm, always conscious of the other two men running a few yards behind him.

“Iwaizumi,” Kuroo called out. “Let’s stop for a sec, yeah? Talk this out like big kids.”

With a heavy exhale, Iwaizumi slowed to a stop and turned around to face them both.

Bokuto was staring at him hard, arms folded. Kuroo positioned himself between them like a mediator, expression unreadable.

“You like him,” he said, tone sharper than he’d ever heard it. “Akaashi.”

Iwaizumi exhaled. “Of course I like him, we’re friends—”

“You _like_ like him.”

“He dressed up for him," Kuroo supplied. “He totally does.”

Bokuto made a large complicated gesture with his arms. “Then why keep it a secret at all? Don’t you want him to know?”

“I—”

“And everyone would support you and help you out if you said you had a date, whoever it was with, so I don’t get why you want this to be some _big secret._  Of course I’m going to think that you’re—”

“I’m scared, all right?” Iwaizumi snapped out, the honest truth burning like acid all the way up his throat. “I keep thinking he’s going to change his mind about me.”

Bokuto and Kuroo stared at him. Iwaizumi gritted his teeth and turned to start running again. Fuck this. Fuck them. It was too cold to just keep standing around and he didn’t have to tell shit to anyone—

“He likes you too.”

Bokuto’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“He hasn’t said, but I can tell. He’s always had his eyes on you, even before I introduced you.”

“And he’s not the kind of guy who changes his mind on a whim,” Kuroo said, almost gentle.

“Shut up, Kuroo, I’m trying to figure out what his problem is.”

“I don’t have a problem,” Iwaizumi grated out. “I just don’t think keeping this on the down-low is that much to ask from you.”

“Maybe he wants it to be special, yeah? Something between just them two,” Kuroo said anyway, ignored Bokuto’s demand that he be quiet and Iwaizumi’s pointed glare. “When Oikawa and I first—well, we didn’t want anyone else to know either at first.”

“See, I don’t _get that.”_

“Just because you don’t get it doesn’t make it wrong, Bo. Some people don’t’ want their feelings to be proclaimed from the rooftops by everyone and their grandmother.”

Iwaizumi wished he could vanish right through the pavement. Be anywhere but here. Everything was going wrong. _He likes you too._ He started running again, not caring if the other two followed or not.

It took maybe five minutes, but then they pulled up along either side of him, neither of them looking particularly happy, but…not mad, either.

“I’m shitty at keeping secrets,” Bokuto said after a while. “Especially from Akaashi. But I can respect that you deserve to go at this at your own pace.”

The last bit sounded rehearsed, words borrowed from Kuroo’s mouth. But he didn’t sound any less sincere for it. His head was down though and he couldn’t see his expression.

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi said, at a loss.

“Can we stop? Please?”

“It’s cold, Bokuto.”

“Just for a second. Please.”

Iwaizumi slowed to a stop yet again. At this rate, they’d get muscle cramps from standing around in the cold like idiots, talking about their dumb feelings. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings, he didn’t want to even _think_ about his feelings. They confused him too much.

“Sorry for shoving you, Kuroo,” Bokuto said, holding out his hand for him to shake. Kuroo shook it somberly before pulling him in for a tight hug.

“Just don’t make a habit of it, muscle man. We’re good.”

Bokuto held out his hand for Iwaizumi to shake next, looking dead serious, brows furrowed.

“Sorry for thinking you were ashamed. I should have known better. Just, Akaashi is my best friend and I gotta look out for him, you know?”

“I’d do the same for Oikawa. And for you.” Iwaizumi glanced to Kuroo when he cleared his throat pointedly. “Yeah, and you, asshole.”

Bokuto’s face slowly broke out in a smile and he grabbed Iwaizumi in a crushing hug. Iwaizumi hugged him back, feeling oddly vulnerable. The soft moment was broken by Kuroo shouting _group hug_ and latching onto both of them. Caught between his teammates, he could barely breathe, but when he complained as such, they just laughed and held on tighter.

“So you’ll keep it a secret for now?” Iwaizumi asked when they finally let go and started back in on their laps again.

“Well, I’ll do my best. I _maybe_ already called it a date to Akaashi.”

_Well, shit._

“Oh shit, man, what did he say?” Kuroo said, a little breathless from the fast pace they had settled into.

Bokuto screwed up his face and affected a cool, lilting tone that was clearly an imitation of Akaashi. “He said, ‘please do not refer to it as such when Iwaizumi did not specify that it was a date’.”

“Could be worse, man,” Kuroo said to Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi just gritted his teeth and ran.

There was still a little tension in the air, between him and Bokuto. Iwaizumi hated that it was there, but at least they had come to an understanding.

“So,” Kuroo drawled the single word out, bumping into Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi shot him a glare. His elbows were fucking _pointy._ “Akaashi, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Kuroo laughed, so hard that he stumbled on an uneven patch of concrete. That made Bokuto laugh uproariously, and Iwaizumi couldn’t help but to join in, hearing that infectious sound.

With that, the tension was gone.

The coach gave them a stern talking to when they arrived back at the gym, thoroughly worn out. Well, Iwaizumi and Kuroo were worn out. Bokuto was still buzzing with energy, bouncing on his toes the whole time the coach talked to them.

They parted ways after running through the showers, Bokuto and Kuroo headed one direction, Iwaizumi another.

His phone buzzed while he was still walking back home. Bokuto.

_You aren’t mad right?_

_We’re cool, man,_ Iwaizumi texted back.

_You’re sure?_

Iwaizumi shook his head and hit the call button. Bokuto picked up almost before the first ring was done.

“You’re sure?” he said, not bothering with a greeting.

“Positive, dude, quit worrying about it.”

“It’s just…Akaashi was one of my first good friends, y’know?” There was something awkward and vulnerable in his voice. “I gotta look after him.”

“I get it. It’s really okay, Bokuto.”

He could hear Kuroo’s voice in the background, holding a conversation with someone else. He was confused for a moment before he heard the name _Kenma_ and realized Kuroo was just on the phone, too.

“Kuroo says I’m too protective,” Bokuto continued, in a softer voice, “but he’s always had my back. I just want to have his, too.”

He wished they were talking face-to-face again instead of through the phone. Iwaizumi stopped outside the apartment complex, leaning back up against the wall.

“I’m protective of my friends too, Bokuto. I get it. And I’m glad Akaashi has someone like you looking after him.” Iwaizumi squinted up at the barely visible stars. “I bet he’s glad too.”

That seemed to brighten Bokuto’s spirits considerably. They hung up after saying goodnight and Iwaizumi trotted up the stairs to his shared dorm.

Oikawa didn’t immediately pounce on him, but it was a near thing.

“So,” he drawled out, stepping out from the kitchen, munching on a riceball. “Going to tell me what that big scene was all about? Coach was royally pissed.”

“Those were for tomorrow, dumbass,” Iwaizumi groused. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m guessing it had to do with Akaashi, then?”

Was he that transparent?

“Seriously, it’s not even worth going into. It’s all good now.”

“But Kuroo knows that you’ve got the hots for Akaashi now, right? I can talk to him about it?”

“I don’t have the _hots_ for anyone, god, you’re the worst.”

“But I can talk to him about it now, right?”

“If you have to.”

Oikawa cheered and returned to the kitchen. Iwaizumi growled softly under his breath and went to his room, forgoing his usual post-workout snack and just collapsing face first on his bed after changing.

His legs were sore from all the running, in an almost pleasant sort of way. But he was emotionally drained.

Tomorrow would be better, he told himself firmly. There was no way it couldn’t be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For once, things were more awkward with Bokuto there with them.

Iwaizumi frowned down at the equation he was wrestling with, half of his attention on Akaashi’s fingers tapping lightly on the table. Bokuto was quiet, tapping away at his datapad. Every so often, Iwaizumi could feel Bokuto look up, glance between him and Akaashi, _smile_ , and go back to his work.

_I maybe already called it a date to Akaashi._

Akaashi’s reaction had been neutral. Which was—fine. It was fine.

He was fine.

“Iwaizumi.”

He dropped his stylus when Akaashi said his name, slamming his hand down on it with what was perhaps unnecessary force to stop it from rolling off the table.

Both Bokuto and Akaashi raised their eyebrows at him.

“Dude, _smooth_ ,” Bokuto snorted.

“What?” Iwaizumi said, sharper than he really meant to.

“Could you come with me? I need some help carrying some books out from the stacks.”

“I could help—”

“I know you would, Bokuto. I also know you have an exam in two hours, so please go back to revising while Iwaizumi helps me.”

The request seemed suspicious at best—Akaashi was an athlete turned scholar, and he doubted all that muscle mass just up and vanished somehow between the practice game and now, but he got up from his seat and obediently walked after Akaashi up the stairs to the second level.

He watched the shelves pass them by curiously as they moved deeper and deeper into the library. Finally, Akaashi stepped into one of the aisles.

Akaashi had his arms crossed, staring contemplative at the row of books in front of him. Iwaizumi ran his hands over the edge of the shelf, watching the titles gleam in the air. Folklore, culture, anthropology. Maybe he really did need help carrying things. The books were all hefty, and though clear of dust, as were all the books in the library, they didn’t seem like they were moved very often.

“You gonna tell me what this is about? Or do you actually need help with the books?”

Akaashi shot him a withering glance. Iwaizumi sighed and turned to face him, refusing to be cowed by his vicious side-eye.

“Look, man, unless you tell me what’s up, I’m not going to know.”

Akaashi shook his head and reached out to one of the shelves; his fingers drummed restlessly against the metal as he frowned at the books before him. His nose was scrunched up, just a little, and Iwaizumi would have found the expression endearing if the tension wasn’t so heavy and distracting.

“It is unlikely that our schedules will match up easily,” he said at last. “For this movie you’d like us to go see.”

“Pretty sure we can work something out,” Iwaizumi said, irritated by the roundabout way he was talking. If he didn’t want to go with him, he could just say so. He didn’t need Akaashi to pull his punches with him. He watched Akaashi turn his gaze away.

So that really was it. Akaashi wanted to bail. Maybe he’d changed his mind about being _friends_ with Iwaizumi after all.

Iwaizumi still wanted to hear him say that straight out. He didn’t want things left open-ended.

No loose ends. A clean break. That’s what he needed.

“And it is unlikely our tastes in movie genres are the same.”

“You’re not a romcom guy. Me neither. That’s not what I had in mind anyway.”

“We’re making a habit out of assuming, are we now?”

“Bokuto told me. And I’m not assuming shit, Akaashi. You’re making yourself pretty damn clear.”

Akaashi didn’t dignify that with a reply. He moved his fingers across several books, very clearly forcing his features into a neutral expression. It didn’t work well, not what with the twitch in his jaw that Iwaizumi could see. Akaashi pulled down a book. Iwaizumi felt his fighting spirit boil just beneath his skin. Sure, maybe he didn’t have much of a chance to save the outing, but maybe he could save their friendship?

“I was planning on _asking you_ if there was something you wanted to see. And then we could, you know. Compromise. Like adults.”

“I’m merely voicing my concerns about how unlikely it is that our preferences match up,” Akaashi said, almost cryptic. He exhaled audibly and pulled another book down, standing on tiptoe to reach the very top shelf. “I assume you’re not thrilled about the idea of seeing a documentary.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say about _assuming.”_

“Excuse me?”

Iwaizumi curled his thumbs through his belt loops, looking up at Akaashi. “It makes an ass out of you and me.”

Akaashi blinked slowly.

“How juvenile,” he muttered.

“Yeah, well. Nothing’s keeping you here if that’s what you think of me.”

How had this turned into an argument? If he had been tense before, he was now even more on edge, jaw tight.

“That’s not,” Akaashi made a vague gesture and began pulling books, seemingly at random, off the shelves, “what I meant. It was not a judgement of your character.”

“Yeah, well, sorry then,” Iwaizumi couldn’t keep the sardonic tone out of his voice in retaliation, “because I’ve been getting a lot of that lately. Could probably sue for character defamation by now.”

Akaashi’s fingers had started tapping against the sides of the books he was holding, stopping suddenly to tighten his hold. _He’s nervous,_ Iwaizumi realized. His own fingers loosened from the tight fists they had formed.

He’d never seen Akaashi nervous before. He hadn’t really thought anything could make Akaashi nervous, which was a ridiculous idea now that he considered it, but there it was.

Maybe, just maybe, he was nervous for the same reason Iwaizumi was nervous.

Iwaizumi wanted to know Akaashi, this new, nervous Akaashi included. That much he could make up his mind about.

Which meant Iwaizumi wasn’t completely crazy to think that they had _something_ building between them. The need to fight back dissipated. It was replaced with a much lighter feeling when Akaashi locked his eyes with his, finally, something like earnestness reflecting back at him.

“No, forgive me,” Akaashi said. “You don’t deserve my anxieties projected onto you like that.”

_Oh,_ Iwaizumi thought. _That’s what that was?_ They stared at each other, both of them very still while the world moved quietly around them. Iwaizumi smiled, reminded too much of that soft moment they’d shared after the practice match, and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“It’s nothing.”

Akaashi smiled back, ever so faintly.

He cleared his throat and held out his arms. “Here, give me some of those before you break your arms, pretty boy.”

Akaashi’s eyes narrowed, and then he dropped the whole stack in Iwaizumi’s arms. It was only his pride that kept him from complaining about the weight the whole way back to the table, but god damn, those books were heavy. Did he even need them? Or had this whole thing been a ruse to get him alone?

He found he didn’t really mind, either way.

“You guys took _forever_ ,” Bokuto said.

“I had several selections to make.” Akaashi patted his shoulder as he sat next to him. Iwaizumi deposited the books beside him before taking his own seat.

He had just gotten back into the groove of his work when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He stuck his stylus behind his ear for safekeeping, keeping his eyes on the equation he was on while he pulled out his phone.

It was from Akaashi.

_I will send you a few days that would work for me tonight. For our outing._

Iwaizumi glanced up at him, but his head was studiously bowed over his work.

_Sounds good,_ he texted back. Then he hesitated. _Looking forward to it._

He looked up again a few moments later, after seeing Akaashi look at his phone from his peripheral vision. There was a small smile on his face, his dimple only a faint suggestion.

_Me too._

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


	6. What You Imagined and What You Ran From

“You can’t be serious.”

Akaashi looked mildly offended at his words. Iwaizumi couldn’t go on with this realization about him. Surely this was where he drew the line.

“Kyary Pamyu Pamyu is a well-known and respected music artist,” Akaashi said, simply, without inflection. Iwaizumi groaned and buried his head in his hands.

“You’re killing me here.”

“On the contrary, I haven’t touched you, and I certainly didn’t poison your coffee.”

Because Akaashi had shown up to their next scheduled ‘study group, only Bokuto can’t make it’ meetings with a stoneware mug of steaming coffee in one hand, and a matching mug of his usual tea in the other. Iwaizumi had weakly protested that _he_ was supposed to pay for Akaashi next time they had beverages together, only to have Akaashi grin and say he’d stolen it from his roommate, Konoha.

It was devious and sweet and Iwaizumi was dead.

“I’m dying,” he mumbled into his hands. “I’m dying, I’ve died, I’m dead.”

“You seem remarkably corporeal for a ghost.” Now Akaashi sounded amused. “Anyway—what’s the phrase? Don’t knock it until you try it. Here, have a listen.” He scooted his chair a little closer, fiddling with his phone and shoving an earbud Iwaizumi’s way.

Under other circumstances, Iwaizumi would have been glad to be physically closer to him. As things stood, Iwaizumi tried to scoot away only to be blocked by the leg of the table.

“No, no, dude, you are free to listen to what you want, but you _can’t make me_ —”

Akaashi kept staring at him. Iwaizumi’s voice petered off.

“Well, you _can’t._ ”

“Can’t I?”

There was a sharp light in his gaze, as if he was begging Iwaizumi to test him on this.

“Are you really going to make a scene about it?” There were already a few people glancing their way. Iwaizumi kept leaning away from the offered earbud. “Is your masculinity so fragile that you won’t even listen to one song?”

“Is my—this has nothing to do with _masculinity,_ this has to do with you having shitty taste in pop music,” Iwaizumi hissed out. Akaashi was smiling faintly, as though he had already won. Apart from bodily leaving the situation, he couldn’t really think of a way out.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

He took the earbud gracelessly and slumped back in his chair. Akaashi’s smile widened and he leaned in closer, eyes fixed on his phone as he scrolled through his music library. Iwaizumi watched him, noting the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his brow.

He barely noticed when the music began, too busy re-memorizing the details of Akaashi’s features. But he did notice the way Akaashi propped his head up on one hand and turned to face him, still smiling, deep green eyes fixed on his face. Iwaizumi didn’t look away, because what was he, a coward?

The beat wasn’t half bad, but the music itself was saccharine-sweet. Definitely not to his tastes.

They kept looking at each other throughout the song, Akaashi tapping his fingers along with the beat. Iwaizumi wasn’t exactly sorry when the song ended, but he missed the gentle press of Akaashi’s knee against his. Before he could pull the earbud out, Akaashi was already reaching over, delicately removing it with the lightest brush of his fingertips against Iwaizumi’s ear. Something warm twisted in his gut at that touch and Iwaizumi felt his face flame.

“So?”

Iwaizumi cleared his throat, very aware that Akaashi had yet to move an appropriate distance away from him. “Like I said, you have shitty taste in pop music,” he said roughly.

Akaashi rolled his eyes expansively. “Well. You get points for listening, I suppose.”

“Oh, so I had a choice?”

Akaashi’s eyes danced with laughter. “There’s always a choice, Iwaizumi.”

That was a sobering thought. He acted like he didn’t have a choice in going to Soulmate Connect, but he’d made the choice to go with Oikawa. He’d made the choice to go through with it. He acted like all this was forced upon him, but in the end, it was his choices that had led him here.

If Akaashi noticed the drop in his mood, he didn’t bring it up, but he did look back down at his books. “All right, your turn. You may subject me to your own presumably poor choices in music.”

Iwaizumi took a steadying breath and queued up a song.

By the time they exited the library together, still connected by their shared earphones, they had listened to every Glass Animals song on his phone and then some. Akaashi sighed and detached himself, handing the earbud back to him.

“I had figured you for more a rock and roll type,” Akaashi admitted. Iwaizumi was glad he hadn’t queued up his exercise or pump-up playlist.

“I listen to my fair share,” he said with a shrug. “But it’s not exactly library music, you know?”

“True.”

Akaashi glanced at the overcast and rapidly darkening sky. “Do you have time?”

“Time for what?” He had practice coming up soon.

“After practice, I mean. I have something for you to listen to, but it’s at my place.”

“Sure,” Iwaizumi said, trying to sound casual but perhaps coming off as a bit too enthused. It made Akaashi smile yet again.

“I’ll wait for you after practice then.”

He waved goodbye and went on his way. Iwaizumi watched his retreating back, holding tight to his phone.

It would be fine.

Everything was fine.

He speed-walked back to the apartment to grab his gym bag and headed over the gym early to work off the excess energy coiled beneath his skin.

He wasn’t the only person with the same idea.

Kuroo and Bokuto were in the locker room when he stepped through the door. There were a few moments where they just stared at him, and he stared back, unmoving. Maybe they’d been talking about him, maybe they hadn’t. They sure as hell weren’t talking now.

_Fuck this._

He tossed his bag on the bench and waved his chipped wrist in front of his locker to open it.

“’Sup, Iwa-chan,” Kuroo said with false brightness.

“That’s Iwaizumi to you, dipshit.” He yanked off his shirt.

“Now, that’s no way to talk to one of your bestest buddies, is it?” An arm was slung around his bare shoulders and Iwaizumi gritted his teeth, holding still. “Me and Bo were just having a chat about you.”

“Really,” he said flatly. He thought they had moved past this. Apparently, they hadn’t.

“Now, now, don’t be like that. All good things, right, Bokuto?”

“Right!” He sounded sincere, at least. Iwaizumi glanced to Bokuto, who smiled widely and gave him two thumbs-up. “And about Oikawa.”

It was only because Kuroo was right beside him that Iwaizumi felt him tense. _Two can play at this game._

“Oikawa, huh?” he said lightly, shrugging off Kuroo’s arm so he could turn around. He felt more relaxed now that they knew he wasn’t the only one being gossiped about. “And what did the two of you have to say about him?”

“Just that he’s an excellent captain,” Kuroo said, a little too hurriedly.

“Well, that and how he’s total hot stuff,” Bokuto said easily.

Kuroo made a choking noise. Iwaizumi grinned.

“That so?”

Bokuto nodded. “Don’t worry though, you’re hot stuff too.”

Iwaizumi turned red at the unexpected compliment.

“And so is Kuroo, and so am I!” he continued, whipping off his shirt and flexing his admittedly impressive biceps. “We’re like, the Four Musketeers of hotness.”

“I thought there were only three Musketeers?” Kuroo asked in a strained voice, his face covered with one hand. Iwaizumi noticed he was peeking through his fingers at Bokuto, though.

“Uh, _no_ , stupid, don’t you read? There were four, the fourth just wasn’t involved as much in the shenanigans.”

“Sounds like he’s stealing wisdom from Akaashi now,” Kuroo stage whispered to Iwaizumi. Bokuto pouted, lowering his arms. “Should we report this most grievous crime?”

“I wouldn’t count on him stealing wisdom,” Iwaizumi said. “I see him in the library more often than you, Kuroo.”

“Ha ha! I win!” Bokuto crowed, launching forward and wrapping Iwaizumi up in a hug. Kuroo sighed, smiling behind Bokuto’s back. He shot Iwaizumi a wink.

“Well, this certainly is quite the lovefest,” Oikawa drawled out. “Glad you three lovebirds have worked things out.”

“That’s the power of running laps at work,” Kuroo answered, a bright, soft gleam in his eyes. Oikawa laughed a little, coming over and pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

“Well, unless you three are keen to be running some more, I’d start getting ready before you end up being late. Rest of the team is right behind me.”

They threw on their clothes and headed out to the gym together.

Practice was uneventful. By the end of the day, Iwaizumi was usually tired, being the early-riser that he was, but he felt more keyed-up than ever as he filed out of the locker room, freshly showered and dressed in his street clothes.

Oikawa grabbed him by the arm lightly when he started heading towards where Bokuto was running over to meet Akaashi.

“Where’re you going, hm?”

“Akaashi invited me over,” he said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Oh?” One of Oikawa’s eyebrows arched and a sly grin stretched his voice. “ _Get it_ , Iwa-chan!” He lifted his hands for a high five.

“It’s not like that. We were talking about music in the library—”

“So _that’s_ where you were all day, you scoundrel!”

Iwaizumi glared. “We’re just going to listen to something quick and then I’ll be home, fuck you very much.”

“Now, now.” He grabbed Iwaizumi by both shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “Don’t be like that, Iwa-chan, I’m just trying to show my support. Go get ‘im. And remember, don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

Oikawa trotted off to join Matsukawa, jumping on his back and demanding a piggy-back ride. Iwaizumi heard Matsukawa laugh, watched him hike Oikawa a little higher up on his back.

“What wouldn’t you do,” he muttered to no one.

Iwaizumi shook his head and finally headed over to where Bokuto and Akaashi were waiting for him.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Bokuto exclaimed, leading the way out of the gym, leaving Akaashi and Iwaizumi to walk side by side. Like before, Akaashi shortened his strides a little, Iwaizumi lengthened his a little, and they matched perfectly.

Bokuto chattered on about volleyball and his classes, Akaashi chiming in every so often. Neither of them seemed to mind that Iwaizumi stayed quiet, so he kept his peace and walked.

“What are you two up to tonight, anyway? You wouldn’t say when I asked you earlier.”

“Can’t two friends just hang out without everyone making a big deal out of it?” Akaashi asked, a bit snide.

“Well, sure, but you two are—”

“Akaashi has a song for me to listen to,” Iwaizumi interrupted before Bokuto could say something damning. “That’s all.”

Bokuto looked at Akaashi with raised brows. Akaashi inclined his head and they seemed to share some kind of secret conversation in that moment.

“Well!” Bokuto clapped a strong hand on each of their shoulders. “This is where we part ways.”

They said their goodbyes. Bokuto whispered something in Akaashi’s ear as they hugged, something that made Akaashi smile and shake his head. Iwaizumi grudgingly opened his arms when Bokuto turned on him.

There was no whisper for him, only a bone-crushing hug. And then he was off, dashing away to the dorm he and Kuroo shared.

Akaashi and he fell back into their rhythm.

“You’re quiet, tonight,” he commented.

“I’m always quiet.”

“Yes, but tonight it’s different.” Akaashi eyed him. “If you’re tired, this can wait until another time.”

“No,” he assured him hurriedly. “No, I’m fine.”

He followed Akaashi up the stairs and waited nervously while he unlocked the door.

“At long last,” a distant voice from within the apartment, “the prince returns to his kingdom.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes and ushered Iwaizumi inside, toeing off his shoes neatly. Iwaizumi lined his shoes next to his, and kept following as Akaashi walked further in to the living space. His roommate walked out from one of the doors with a grin that only widened when he saw Iwaizumi by Akaashi’s side.

“Ah, but the prince does not return alone! He brings with him his—”

“Konoha, do shut up.”

He bowed low. “As my prince commands.”

“Iwaizumi, don’t mind him. This is my roommate, Konoha. We all played volleyball together in high school, with Bokuto. And he reads far too many fantasy novels.”

“Nice to meet you,” Iwaizumi said, feeling unbearably awkward.

“Likewise.”

Akaashi touched Iwaizumi’s arm. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” He walked towards the other door, leaving him alone with his oddball roommate. Iwaizumi took a small sort of joy in noting that he was a little bit taller than him.

“So you’re him, huh?” Konoha folded his arms, sizing Iwaizumi up with a grin. “Akaashi’s Ace-san.”

He wasn’t Akaashi’s anything, but Konoha was already continuing on.

“Nice to finally meet you, Ace-san. Sorry about the mess.” He gestured to the books piled haphazardly among the empty dishes on the coffee table. “Wasn’t expecting company.”

“It’s Iwaizumi.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He had expected Akaashi’s living space to be neater, more organized, but it was chaos as far as the eye could see.

“Of course it is.”

Akaashi returned then, carrying something in a hard, polycarb case, that fit easily in the palm of his hand. “Please don’t harass my house guest, Konoha.”

“Harass? C’mon, ‘kaashi, you know me better than that.” Konoha unfolded his arms and picked up a coat from the back of the squashed looking couch. “Anyway, you two kids have fun. I’ve gotta run.”

“You’re welcome to stay, Konoha,” Akaashi offered. “We’re not intending to chase you out.”

“Nah, man, I’ve got a date with my anthropology essay and some coffee.” He slapped Akaashi on the shoulder as he walked past and shot Iwaizumi an oddly conspiratorial wink. “Don’t wait up for me, yeah?”

“Do I ever?”

They both laughed and Konoha was gone, leaving the two of them in the quiet space of Akaashi’s home. It smelled a bit like him—malty, like dark tea.

Iwaizumi eyed the case in favor of avoiding looking at Akaashi. “What’s that?”

“You’ll see.” He took a seat on the couch, gesturing for Iwaizumi to sit next to him. He waved a hand and the lights in the room went down, lower and lower, until they were almost in complete darkness. Only then did he crack open the case.

Lights cascaded out of it, like a billion little stars had been trapped inside. The soft white lights speckled Akaashi’s face with equal amounts light and shadow. Music began to play, a strange thrumming and dancing of notes from instruments Iwaizumi couldn’t name. It was enthralling, even more so when the lights began moving in time to the wordless song.

Akaashi leaned his head back, smiling, and closed his eyes. Unobserved, Iwaizumi drank in the sight of him; the way his neck stretched out, the curve of his lips, the way his fingers tapped along to the strange beat of the song. He longed to touch those fingers, that neck, those lips.

Iwaizumi tore his gaze away and focused on the song. It wouldn’t do any good to close his eyes, because lately, when he did, all he saw was Akaashi, Akaashi, Akaashi.

“What do you think?” Akaashi asked. Iwaizumi almost hadn’t realized the song was over.

“It was different. Experimental. Never heard anything like it, really,” he stumbled over his words, trying to wrangle them in a way that made sense. He saw Akaashi smile from the corner of his eyes.

“Yes, but did you like it?”

“Yeah, I, uh. I did.” He cleared his throat. “Are you going to tell me who it’s by or what?”

Akaashi leaned forward and closed up the case, the lights disappearing with it, leaving them in a dark room, alone. He was very aware of his own breathing, of the thud of his heartbeat. He imagined if he listened close enough, he could hear Akaashi’s heart too.

“My brother,” he said quietly, without inflection.

“Are you shitting me?”

Akaashi snorted softly. “No. My older brother is a musician. Popular, in the right circles. As you said, his work is experimental. He always sends me his newest ideas before he goes into production.”

“That’s…really cool.” Iwaizumi didn’t know what else to say. “You guys are close, then?”

“Not particularly.”

Just as Iwaizumi was about to ask what he meant by that, Akaashi sighed, leaning back against the couch again. He seemed a little closer to Iwaizumi than before, their legs brushing together, their arms touching—just barely, but they were.

“We’re not _not_ close, it’s just—do you have siblings?”

“Nah, it’s just me.” Oikawa was his brother, but not by blood.

“Well.” Akaashi paused for a long moment. Iwaizumi took a chance and nudged him, gently, with his elbow. He nudged back. “We’ve always seen each other more as rivals than brothers, I suppose.”

Iwaizumi frowned. It was a hard thing to imagine. Akaashi kept talking, so Iwaizumi just listened.

“I always succeeded academically, whereas he succeeded in creative endeavors.”

“How can you be rivals if you’re not competing in the same realm?”

“We were competing for attention.”

“Attention?”

“Or recognition, if you like. From our parents.” Akaashi stood abruptly and waved a hand, calling the lights back up. The delicate moment was broken. Iwaizumi watched as he padded from the room with the small case and returned back empty handed, a slight frown on his face.

Iwaizumi felt at a loss. He wanted to know more about his family life, about this rival brother, but there was one other thing more important than that.

“Why did you have me listen to your brother’s music?” he blurted out. Akaashi blinked slowly, once, twice.

“Because it’s special to me, and I wanted to share it with you.” He glanced away, then looked back at Iwaizumi with an unreadable expression. “He wrote that particular song for me.”

“Oh.”

“To help me sleep,” he expounded, although Iwaizumi hadn’t asked.

“You have trouble sleeping?”

“I have trouble getting my brain to shut up, yes.”

Iwaizumi smiled, helplessly. It was so _him._ Akaashi smiled back, ever so faintly. The light had returned to his deep green eyes and that helped Iwaizumi to relax. This was all uncharted waters, but if Akaashi wanted him to be here, like hell he could say no to that.

“You always struck me as a night owl,” Iwaizumi said, just to fill the silence. It was an easy picture to imagine; Akaashi bent over one of his fairytale books in the deep of night, reading by the light of his desk lamp.

“Well, you’re not wrong. And you’ve always struck me as an early riser.”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “It’s habit mostly. I like my morning runs.”

Akaashi gave a theatric shudder. “The horror. I could forgive you for being an early bird, but that’s just too cliché. Are you certain you’re real, and not a well-programmed robot?”

Iwaizumi was surprised into laughter. “Last I checked, I was real enough. And robots have prettier manners than me. You have something against running?”

“Not the activity itself, but early mornings combined with exercise? That gets a hard pass from me.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t stop smiling for some reason.

“Morning’s the best time for a run,” he argued. “The air seems fresher. No one else is around, usually, the world isn’t quite awake yet—”

“If the world’s not up, neither should you be.”

“And here I thought you had all these romantic ideals. Capturing the sunrise, all that shit.”

Akaashi cleared his throat. “I don’t know about _romantic._ Anyway, I’m more of a sunset man, myself.”

Iwaizumi regretted his choice of words. The air between them had an odd tension to it.

_I should go._

_I don’t want to go._

_But I_ should.

“So, um.” He fiddled with the edges of his worn sleeves, wishing momentarily he had worn something nicer. “How many people have you played that song for?”

He didn’t know why he asked. Well, he did, but he didn’t like admitting to the spike of jealousy that flashed through him when he thought of Akaashi sharing the same intimate setting with someone else other than him.

Akaashi eyed him for a moment.

“Does it matter?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

_Because it’s special to me, and I wanted to share it with you._

“Guess not,” Iwaizumi grunted out.

“I’ve introduced many people to my brother’s music,” Akaashi said. “I am proud of him, after all. But only two other people have heard this song before, including you.”

“Bokuto?”

Akaashi smiled, self-deprecating. “Who else? He is my best friend, after all.”

“I’ve always wondered how that happened. You two aren’t much alike.”

“We’re more alike than we seem. And haven’t you heard the phrase, opposites attract?” Iwaizumi opened his mouth to apologize but Akaashi waved away the unspoken words. “I admired his qualities from the beginning. His passion, his talent. His kindness, and open heart. At first, I merely wanted to learn from him. But Bokuto doesn’t do things in half-measures.”

“That’s for damn sure.” That drew out a small smile from Akaashi.

“I had a talent for drawing out his strengths. That’s where it started, I suppose. A mutual appreciation and desire to work together that grew into something more.” Akaashi hesitated again, weaving his fingers together and stretching them until the joints popped. “He’s an easy man to like, for all his faults. And it helped that we were both lonely.”

Iwaizumi didn’t know what to say to that. Akaashi raised his brows.

“What?”

“What?” Iwaizumi echoed.

“You look, I don’t know. Sad.”

The idea of anyone going through life being lonely was upsetting, least of all when it was someone he knew.

“Bokuto told me you were one of his first friends,” Iwaizumi said slowly. Akaashi nodded.

“It’s less widely known that he was one of my first as well. I was respected, in a fashion, but before Bokuto, I tended to keep everyone at a distance. And, well. Respect is not the same thing as friendship.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, Iwaizumi unsure of what he was meant to do with this information. Akaashi reached out—Iwaizumi was frozen—and gently poked between his brows.

“Frown so much, your face will get stuck that way. Anyway, it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“For a deep, dark secret. You know one of mine, it’s only fair.”

“I,” Iwaizumi floundered, “don’t think that counts as a dark secret, Akaashi.”

He sighed. “Then I’ll settle for just a secret, I suppose.”

Iwaizumi’s stomach chose that moment to make a rumbling growl. Iwaizumi felt himself flush bright red as he pressed a hand to his traitorous belly. Akaashi’s lips twitched upwards.

“Perhaps I could interest you in something to eat?”

“I don’t want to like, impose.”

“Please, Iwaizumi. My home is your home.”

He stood and followed like an awkward puppy after Akaashi as he stepped into the kitchen. Here, at least, it was organized and clean. As Akaashi busied himself digging through the fridge, Iwaizumi leaned back against the counter.

“Hadn’t pictured you for a slob.”

“ _Excuse me?”_ He coughed to cover his laughter at Akaashi’s affronted tone. Akaashi sniffed haughtily. “It’s called creative clutter, thank you very much.”

He closed the fridge with a sigh. “Nothing much in there, I’m afraid. Shall we go out for a bite?”

He should just go home. It was late already, his classes started early in the morning.

And yet he found himself agreeing and following Akaashi out the door to the very same café they’d gone to the other day. It was less full at this hour. Iwaizumi blindly ordered a sandwich and paid for Akaashi’s pastry. He’d expected him to protest, but he’d only smiled and gone to grab a table in the back.

“You still owe me that secret.”

_You’re my soulmate, according to an fMRI procedure I went through. Small world, huh?_

Iwaizumi chewed his bite of food thoroughly, wracking his brain for something suitable. Akaashi burst out laughing, covering his mouth politely as he did so.

“Don’t look so _grim_ , Iwaizumi. This isn’t life or death here.”

He gave Akaashi his best glower, which only made him laugh harder.

He couldn’t recall what secret he gave, later, after they parted ways outside the café. Only the sound of his laughter, the warm smile they had shared.

Oikawa was asleep on the couch when he walked into their shared apartment. He paused by him, wondering if he should wake him up and send him properly to bed. With a soft sigh, he adjusted the blanket wrapped around him.

Oikawa blinked awake.

“You’re late,” he accused, voice hoarse with sleep. “Past your curfew, you delinquent.”

“What are you, my mom?”

“No.” He closed his eyes and settled further into the couch. “How was it, then?”

“Go to bed, dumbass.”

He grumbled but between the two of them, managed to get him to his feet and he shuffled off to his bedroom. Iwaizumi slipped into his own room, discarding his clothes carelessly and groaning in relief when he finally curled beneath his sheets.

He was in for more late nights, he had a feeling.

He found he didn’t mind so much.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life fell into a hesitant pattern. Akaashi became more talkative via text, they went back and forth over what movie to see after deciding on the day. Two weeks from now, between exams, between games.

Days came and went.

Dreams came and came and came.

Iwaizumi almost didn’t want them to stop.

Bokuto was keeping his word about not bringing up the ‘date’ to anyone else. Kuroo, surprisingly, had said very little to him, but occasionally brought Akaashi up in conversation to make idle remarks like, ‘did you know Akaashi has the most magnificent bedhead I’ve ever seen’, to which Iwaizumi could only laugh and tell Kuroo that he had no room to talk about _bedhead._

“Dude, are you _ready_ yet?” came Oikawa’s voice. “We’re going to catch hell from everyone if we’re late.”

“This was your goddamn idea, not mine,” he retorted. Not that he’d protested at all when Oikawa brought up the idea of doing a group meeting with the old Seijo team members that weekend.

Iwaizumi glanced at the mirrored doors of his closet. There were dark circles under his eyes. He had stayed up later than usual, texting Akaashi and studying. More of the former than the latter, if he was being totally honest.

He needed to do the laundry. Iwaizumi cast a despairing eye over the empty hangers in his closet, the two warring piles of clothes on the floor; not clean, and passably clean.

There _was_ one article of clothing he could wear.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined again.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, glaring at nothing for a few seconds before giving it up.

Iwaizumi hesitated, then pulled the sweater over his head before stomping out of his bedroom towards where his shoes were haphazardly lined up. Oikawa was bouncing on his toes, robotic leg squeaking a little bit as he did so. He raised a brow at Iwaizumi’s appearance, but at his glare, he for once left it alone.

“Let’s go already, then.”

Iwaizumi led the way out the door.

“Iwa-chan, you slob, your tag’s sticking out. Here, let me—”

Iwaizumi slapped a hand on the back of his neck, hurriedly shoving the tag down his sweater where it belonged. He didn’t want to remember how gentle and cool Akaashi’s fingers had felt, brushing against his skin. His touch had been so delicate, like he was something that needed to be handled with care.

It had been a weird feeling.

Weird but good.

But it was whatever. He didn’t need to dwell on it like some pubescent kid.

“Jeez,” Oikawa said, a bit taken aback by his response. “Somebody’s in a mood.”

“You don’t shut up, I’m not going.”

“Well, _fine_. Be that way, you jerk.”

They stepped outside and Iwaizumi was grateful for the warmth of his sweater and the jacket he had hastily thrown over it. Oikawa sighed and complained about the brisk wind, hunching a little further into his puffy coat. Aqua. Their old team color. He had a lot of that color in his wardrobe, now that he thought about it.

“I hope that the Mad Dog can make it. He said he wasn’t sure.”

“You shouldn’t call him that.” He squinted in the dim afternoon sunlight, moving restlessly from foot to foot as they waited for Matsukawa to join them. “Besides, Yahaba is coming. Bet you anything he shows.”

“True.” Oikawa tapped something out on his phone before returning it to his pocket. “Too about Watari not being able to make it, either.”

“We’ll get him next time.” Iwaizumi nudged him with his elbow, noting the distant look in his eyes. “You didn’t give everyone enough notice. He’d be there today if he could.”

“I know.” Still, he looked a little happier at Iwaizumi’s words.

Matsukawa came tromping down the steps with a shouted apology for being late and they headed off to the train station.

They were meeting somewhere central, even though there wasn’t much central between all of them, Kindaichi least of all. But he had insisted on coming, despite being busier than ever in his third year of high school.

They rode the train for close to an hour, getting off to meet Hanamaki at the station—Matsukawa greeted him by lifting him in the air and twirling him around, ending it with a passionate kiss. Iwaizumi coughed and looked away to give them a semblance of privacy. Hanamaki just laughed, slapping him on the arm, while Oikawa looked on with a smile. Iwaizumi bounced on his toes as they waited for the next train. It would be another half hour before they got to their destination. He was eager for them to be together again.

“You look nice today, Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki mentioned as they took seats in the train car.

“Thanks,” he muttered, looking down at his battered running shoes. The sweater was comfortable enough, but he couldn’t fight down the uneasy feeling that he was just pretending at something he could never be.

“I picked it out for him!” Oikawa announced, leaning into Iwaizumi’s side. “Ain’t he just the cutest? Little Iwa-chan, looking all grown up.”

The three of them snickered as Iwaizumi flushed and shoved Oikawa away from him.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa led the way to the restaurant they were meeting at, their clasped hands swinging between them.

“Feeling jealous?” Oikawa remarked. “I’ll hold your hand for you, if you want. Wouldn’t want you to get lost in this crowd, shorty.”

“Fuck off.”

Oikawa looped their arms together anyway, half-dragging him along. Iwaizumi didn’t blame him for the excitement that was pouring off of him; he felt the same. He was sure they all did.

Yahaba and Kyoutani were already there, as was Kindaichi, who leaped to his feet and waved both arms over his head with a wide grin.

They all crammed into the table, and for a solid twenty minutes, it was all everyone talking all at once, everyone reaching out hands in idle touches. It felt like home. Eventually their food orders came—that didn’t stop the talking one bit, but it did slow it down enough where they weren’t half-yelling over each other to be heard.

“Heard you led the team to victory not so long ago, oh captain,” Oikawa mentioned to Kindaichi around a mouthful of food. He puffed his chest out with pride, even as his cheeks flushed.

“We’re a strong team, this year. Not as strong as _we_ were, but we’re solid.”

“That’s something to be proud of. Good work.” Kindaichi smiled, a little shy, even among just them.

“You know you didn’t have to dress up just for us,” Yahaba said to Iwaizumi. He glared and grumbled a few curses into his ramen, making everyone laugh. “Hey, on a different note, did any of you get those promotional tickets to Soulmate Connect?”

Iwaizumi froze. He felt Oikawa, who was beside him, go very still, and shot him a look.

“What, there’s one out by you guys, too?” Matsukawa asked with vague interest. Hanamaki lifted his head from Matsukawa’s shoulder.

“They’ve been popping up everywhere,” he said. “Gaining a lot of popularity, from the sounds of things.”

“Yeah, but I mean, who would actually go?” Matsukawa countered.

“People who believe in fate, I suppose.”

“What do I need fate for when I’ve got you?”

The table groaned collectively as the two shared another kiss.

“Well, I happen to know it works,” Yahaba said loftily. Beside him, Kyoutani shifted in his seat, shooting Yahaba a glare.

“Oh? How’s that?”

“Well.” He smiled, a little secretive. “I got matched with a certain someone.”

Kyoutani snarled something unintelligible and Yahaba laughed, leaning into him. Rather than shove him away as the Kyoutani of old times might have done, he softened, just a little. Their relationship was hardly a secret, but they didn’t often speak of it.

“You guys were already together,” Oikawa said lightly. “Surely there was no need.”

“It’s all in good fun,” Yahaba said with a shrug. “And besides, it was a chance to learn if we were really meant to be.”

“I don’t need some crackpot machine telling me what’s good for me,” Kyoutani snapped out, curling a possessive arm around Yahaba’s waist.

Iwaizumi felt sick to his stomach, but forced himself to keep eating. Forced himself to act like nothing was out of the ordinary, like nothing was wrong.

_The world isn’t set in stone like that, Oikawa. Emotions are the most fickle thing there is._

It had gone so obviously well for them. They seemed closer than ever.

And he was jealous. Unbearably jealous and—confused about why he should be jealous at all, he should be _happy_ for them. The sick twisting in his gut intensified, turning to a bitter kind of anger. Ever since he had gone to Soulmate Connect, he’d lost all semblance of control over everything; his decisions, his emotions.

Maybe he couldn’t blame it all on that, but it sure as hell was a contributing factor.

He pushed his empty plate away from himself, watching Kyoutani and Yahaba from across the table. The way they moved, not in tandem, but in compliment to each other. Two dancers, one dance.

He tried to imagine it. Him and Akaashi, sitting where they sat. His arm curling around Akaashi’s waist, Akaashi leaning into him. Iwaizumi glanced over to Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who were whispering comments into each other’s ears and laughing, sharing kisses when they thought no one was paying too much attention.

And he just couldn’t do it.

It wasn’t just that public displays of affection didn’t suit him, it was—all of it was just too much for him. He couldn’t give Akaashi that, if that was even what he wanted from him.

Iwaizumi knew—he knew all too well that he would never be able to live up to Akaashi’s expectations. Whatever those were. He was a fucking idiot if he thought he could.

He thought of the softness of the night when Akaashi shared his song with him. What did he have to give in return?

Not even Oikawa noticed how he withdrew from the conversation. They all talked around him. He was a single stone in a river.

Akaashi was a bird in the sky.

And what business did a bird have with a stone?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Iwaizumi stayed quiet even on the train ride back home, Oikawa slumped on his shoulder and snoring softly in his ear. He told himself it was because he wanted to give Matsukawa and Hanamaki a semblance of space until Hanamaki had to get off at his station.

He told himself a lot of things.

“Up and at ‘em, big guy,” he said to Oikawa when they got to their station, jabbing him in the ribs when he pretended to still be asleep.

“Iwa-chan,” he groaned, holding out his arms. “Carry me.”

“Not a chance.”

Oikawa rounded on Matsukawa, hope gleaming in his eyes. The other man just snorted and started walking away towards their apartments.

“Call Kuroo, if you want it that bad.”

“You guys are _mean._ ”

They fell into step beside each other and made the trek in companionable silence.

By the time Iwaizumi closed the door behind him and Oikawa, Oikawa was more alert and demanded he watch a movie with him. Iwaizumi could use a distraction, so he agreed easily, picking out something with plenty of explosions.

They made it halfway through the movie when Oikawa’s phone rang, jarring them both out of their reverie.

“It’s Kuroo,” he said, eyes on the caller ID. “You mind if I…?”

“Go ahead.”

Oikawa grinned and leapt to his feet, answering the phone with a bright hello and vanishing into his room.

There was a hollow space in his chest that threatened to swallow him whole. Iwaizumi curled into his corner of the couch, trying to chase the feeling away, trying to refocus on what was happening on-screen to no avail.

Whatever Soulmate Connect said, it wasn’t meant to be. Akaashi was someone that would forever be just out of his reach. He liked to think he was a confident person, but he was man enough to admit when he wasn’t good enough.

And he would never be good enough. Not for him.

The screen became blurry. Iwaizumi wiped haphazardly at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. His stupid, stupid sweater.

His phone dinged with a text notification.

Akaashi.

He didn’t bother reading the message, switching his phone to silent mode. It didn’t matter anymore.

He must have fallen asleep there, because next thing he knew Oikawa was prodding at him, crouched in front of him with an odd expression on his face. The movie credits were rolling in the background.

“You were crying,” he said softly, not a question.

Iwaizumi rolled over, pressing his face into the couch cushion to avoid looking at him. Oikawa’s hand fell on his back, rubbing in comforting circles.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he muttered.

“Liar.”

“Dumbass.”

“Tell me,” he pleaded again. “You know you can tell me anything. Anything at all, Hajime.”

Oikawa never had been able to stand it when Iwaizumi cried, even when they were younger.

“I just miss them,” he lied, hoping Oikawa would believe it. “The old team.”

Oikawa sighed, still rubbing circles on his back. “Me too, Hajime. Me too.”

Iwaizumi sniffed and blinked a few times to get rid of the residual tears, turning his head to face him. “How’s Kuroo?”

“He’s good. You want to watch another?”

“Nah. I’m beat.”

Oikawa’s eyes searched his face. “You’re sure you’re okay? We could have a sleepover if you want.”

Iwaizumi smiled crookedly, eyes watering all over again.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

They crowded into Oikawa’s bed after changing into pajamas, and Oikawa blathered on so much that Iwaizumi managed to forget Akaashi for a little while.

In the morning, he had over ten messages from Akaashi waiting for him.

He deleted them without reading.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re being a damn idiot, you know,” Kuroo said casually.

Iwaizumi hadn’t known what to think when Kuroo texted him, asking to hang out, for some ‘one-on-one bro time’. He certainly hadn’t expected to be attacked the moment he showed up to his apartment. Bokuto was out of the apartment, leaving them alone.

“Excuse me?”

“Over Akaashi, I mean.”

He was a fool, sure, but not an idiot. As he opened his mouth to make that point, Kuroo made a shushing gesture, eyes sharp.

“Sit down. Let’s talk.”

Iwaizumi shook his head, taking a step back. “I don’t think so.”

Kuroo’s hands clamped down on his shoulders, a little too tight to be friendly. “Like it or not, I owe you for what you did for me and Oikawa. And now, like it or not, you’re going to listen to my advice.”

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes at him. If push came to shove, he could take Kuroo down. But he had no desire to hurt him, annoying as he was sometimes.

“I hate it when you try to be nice,” he said, rolling his shoulders and dislodging Kuroo’s hands. The other man looked affronted, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Why, Iwa-chan, I’m always this nice!”

“The only one you’re fooling here is yourself.” He threw himself down on the couch, letting his bag drop to the floor unceremoniously at his feet. Kuroo laughed a little before sitting in the opposite corner, propping his legs up on the coffee table. “And it’s—”

“—it’s Iwaizumi to you, dumbass,” Kuroo imitated him with startling accuracy.

Iwaizumi glared while Kuroo snickered, looking pleased with himself.

“So? Advice me,” he groused. The sooner this was over with the better.

“You’ve been distant to him all week. Don’t think he hasn’t noticed.” Kuroo sighed. “He even came to me to ask if everything was okay with you. If you had been okay at practices.”

Iwaizumi curled his hands into fists, his short nails digging into his palms. He didn’t deserve Akaashi. His friendship, his worry, none of it.

“So, if you tell me why you’ve decided to be a gigantic _ass_ all of a sudden, maybe we can fix this. He’s worried for now, but trust me when I say he’s going to get angry about it eventually. Bokuto too.” Kuroo seemed to hesitate for a moment. “I don’t think it’s the case, but did he do something to offend you?”

“No,” Iwaizumi spat out, harsher than he intended. Because no, none of this was Akaashi’s fault. It was all him and his damned indecisiveness. _His_ uncertainties, _his_ fears, _his_ doubts.

“Then why, Iwaizumi?”

He made a move to stand, only to have Kuroo shove his legs into his lap, effectively trapping him where he was.

“Kuroo, I’m warning you—”

“You’re a real pain, you know that? I’m trying to help.”

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

“Like it or not, that’s what you’re getting.”

“You are the most meddling, conniving piece of shit,” he hissed out between his teeth, “I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

“Guilty as charged.” Usually Kuroo would flash a charming smile, but his face was all seriousness. “You can apologize to me for that later. Right now, I just want a straight answer.”

Iwaizumi sighed through his nose, his body abuzz with frustration. His hands fell on Kuroo’s legs and as much as his wanted to grip tight, make him hurt as much as he did, he kept his hands gentle.

Kuroo didn’t deserve his anger. Not really.

“If I tell you,” he said, voice hoarse. He stopped, started again. “This conversation stays between us.”

“Who do you think I am?” Kuroo said.

Iwaizumi shot a glare at him.

“All right, all right. I swear on my ancestors, I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone.” Kuroo nudged him with one foot. “Go on then. Tell me.”

Iwaizumi took a few deep breaths.

“He’s better off without me.”

“Somehow, I think he would disagree.”

Iwaizumi shook his head, trying to shake off the metaphor of birds and stones, trying to shake away all the memories he had of Akaashi in the back of his head. Stolen facts from the fMRI. They all weighed on him, heavier than anything.

“I can’t possibly live up to his expectations. So it’s better if I end this—this _thing_ now.”

“And have you asked him what those are?”

“What?”

“His expectations. Have you asked him?”

“No. Who goes around asking shit like that, seriously Kuroo—”

Kuroo cut him off. “Then how could you possibly know how he feels?”

Iwaizumi had nothing to say to that.

“Look, I get that you’re insecure when it comes to him and your feelings, but still.” Kuroo sat up, bringing them closer together, resting a hand on the back of his neck and forcing Iwaizumi to meet his gaze. “Don’t you think Akaashi deserves to decide for himself? Do you really want to be the guy who takes away his autonomy?”

“I’m not—” Iwaizumi whispered. “I wouldn’t—”

“You keep on like this, you really are.”

Iwaizumi felt a little bit like crying, a little bit like punching Kuroo in the face. He did neither.

Kuroo loosened his grip on Iwaizumi’s neck.

“All of this has got something to do with that group meetup you did with your old team, doesn’t it? You want to tell me what happened?”

“Nothing happened, dumbass.”

The image of Kyoutani and Yahaba leaning against one another in the restaurant booth popped into his head. Iwaizumi had been envious, beneath everything else. He had imagined Akaashi beside him, imagined he was brave enough to curl their fingers together, like he saw Yahaba do with Kyoutani.

_What business does a bird have with a stone?_

“I doubt that. Oikawa mentioned to me that two of your juniors went to Soulmate Connect. That it seemed to turn out well for them.”

Iwaizumi flinched.

“Look, I don’t believe in soulmates, Iwaizumi. But I do believe that the people we need in our lives end up finding us, eventually. I also believe that we can lose those people, if we’re not careful. You helped me not lose Oikawa.” His voice went soft, tender, upon saying Oikawa’s name. “All I’m trying to do is make sure you don’t lose Akaashi.”

“He doesn’t need me.”

“Like I said, don’t you think that’s up to him to decide?”

Iwaizumi clenched his jaw tight enough to ache.

“We’ve known each other for a good, long while now, Iwaizumi.” Kuroo’s voice was still soft, like he was talking to a spooked animal. For whatever reason, that pissed Iwaizumi off. “You’re my teammate and you’re my friend. But I’ve known Akaashi longer. Trust me when I say, he’s not going to let you fade away quietly. He fights for what he wants.”

“He doesn’t _want me._ ” And wasn’t that just the most awkward phrase of the century.

Kuroo sighed.

“Not sure where this lack of confidence is coming from, man, but it sure looks ugly on you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Akaashi’s not one to waste time pursuing people he doesn’t want in his life. I heard from Bokuto he hasn’t stopped texting you even though you’ve been ignoring him. Don’t you think that proves my point?”

When Iwaizumi didn’t reply, Kuroo sighed again, dropping his hand entirely.

“Well, that’s all I had to say, really. Whatever you decide to do, I’ve done my part to help you see reason.”

“Fuck you,” Iwaizumi croaked out, “and your shitty advice.”

“Have you always been this aggravating? Or is all this attitude just for me?”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes.

Everything he was saying made sense. He was right. And Iwaizumi was being an idiot. Maybe they would never have a romantic relationship, maybe they would never move past friends. But if he cut Akaashi out of his life now, before they got a chance to be _anything_ , he’d regret it.

Kuroo flicked his forehead and he opened them again with a glare. Kuroo was wearing a crooked half-smile that didn’t match the somber light in his dark eyes.

“Snap out of it, ‘kay? You’ll make the people who care about you worry.”

“And this is you, caring? Is there an opt-out form I can sign?”

“You jerk!” Kuroo threw his lanky arms around him in a one-sided hug, despite the awkward angle he had to bend at. Grudgingly, Iwaizumi patted him on the back a few times, perhaps harder than was necessary.

“I’ll talk to Akaashi.” Iwaizumi had to force the words out. “I’ll apologize.”

“Good.”

“Will you let go already?” Iwaizumi pulled at Kuroo’s arms, trying to get him off of him to no avail. “Fucking—”

“You have to be present in the moment of the hug, dumbass.”

“This is way too many moments. Get off.”

“Not until you are present in the moment of—”

The door opened.

“My, my,” Oikawa said with dry amusement. Iwaizumi craned his neck to see both Iwaizumi as well as Bokuto walking into the apartment. _Thank god. A rescue team._ “You two look awfully cozy. Should I be jealous?”

“Get your boyfriend off me, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said. “Before he strangles me to death.”

Oikawa hummed, thoughtful. “You don’t look dead to me, Iwa-chan!”

Kuroo laughed and held on tighter to Iwaizumi.

So much for a rescue.

“Hey, hey!” Bokuto chimed in, hopping over the back of the couch in surprisingly graceful movement, whipping out his phone. “Smile!”

Iwaizumi scowled and ducked his head into Kuroo’s shoulder as Bokuto snapped a picture.

He had terrible, terrible friends.

Kuroo finally let go, giving Bokuto a high-five before jumping to his feet and moving towards Oikawa. While they held a soft, barely audible conversation behind him, Bokuto crouched down in front of Iwaizumi, placing his hands on his knees.

“Delete it,” Iwaizumi demanded.

“Not a chance,” Bokuto said with a grin.

“Delete the damn picture.”

His grin only widened. But as quickly as the smile had formed, it vanished. Bokuto leaned his head to the side, confirming that Kuroo and Oikawa were still occupied before leaning in closer to Iwaizumi.

“Akaashi’s been worried about you, yeah? Says you haven’t talked to him all week.”

Iwaizumi winced and opened his mouth to spout off an excuse, but Bokuto was already continuing on.

“But I get it, you know. You’re probably sitting around wondering, ‘am I good enough,’ and ‘can I live up to his expectations’.” Bokuto patted his knees with care, his gaze earnest. “I’ve spent enough time doing that in my life to recognize when other people are doing it too. And in my opinion, no one’s good enough for Akaashi. But you, uh. If it helps, you come pretty close.”

Iwaizumi snorted, trying to cover his shock at how quickly Bokuto had figured out what was going on with him. “What are you, his dad?”

“Hey, I’d make a kickass dad!”

“What _are_ you two talking about?” Oikawa asked, coming around the front of the couch, his fingers interlaced with Kuroo’s.

Bokuto rounded on the pair, a prominent pout on his face. “Tell him! Tell him what a great dad I’d make! He doesn’t believe me!”

“The best dad,” Kuroo said, ruffling Bokuto’s spiked up hair with his free hand.

“The coolest of cool dads,” Oikawa offered up.

Bokuto grinned and turned back to Iwaizumi expectantly.

Iwaizumi sighed.

“The buffest dad,” he said.

Bokuto cheered, pumping a fist into the air. Then he got back on his feet and offered Iwaizumi a hand up, pulling him easily to his feet.

“Let’s leave the lovebirds to have some quality time,” he said in a mock whisper, dragging Iwaizumi along towards the apartment entrance.

Bokuto didn’t say anything else until the made it outside and down the steps of the apartment building.

“As it so happens,” he said, “I’m supposed to meet up with Akaashi in an hour. If you want, you could come along.”

“No. I appreciate the offer,” he added hurriedly when Bokuto frowned at him. “I just—I need to apologize and that’s better done on my own time, you know? With just us two.”

Bokuto thought about that for a moment before nodding.

“Make sure you do it properly.”

“I will,” he promised. “Absolutely.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He had already knocked three times on the door. He knew for a fact it was the right apartment, so maybe Akaashi and Konoha weren’t home? Maybe he should have texted before coming over, but he had been too nervous to read the backlog of texts from Akaashi still sitting in his messages.

Iwaizumi frowned down at the drink he held. Tea. For Akaashi. Sort of a peace offering.

Steeling his resolve, he knocked one more time, a little harder. If they didn’t answer this time, he’d just come back later.

He heard a voice from behind the door, cursing him, and then the door was flung open, almost hitting him in the face.

Konoha’s tired, squinting eyes moved slowly up and down him.

“What,” he said flatly, folding his arms and leaning in the doorway.

“I, uh.” He hadn’t been expecting to be met with outright hostility. “Is Akaashi home?”

“Sure is.”

“Okay.”

Konoha kept standing in the doorway.

“Can I come in?” Iwaizumi said pointedly.

“I don’t know, can you?”

“Konoha, who the _fuck—_ oh,” he said, the last word more breath than sound. Akaashi appeared behind his roommate, deep green eyes going wide with surprise at seeing Iwaizumi. His hair was sticking up in several places and he was dressed in what must be his pajamas, loose running shorts and an oversized shirt that exposed a great deal of collarbone.

Iwaizumi swallowed hard and forced a smile. He had woken them both up, clearly. He thought they would be awake, considering it was already eleven, but it _was_ the weekend.

“Hi,” he said.

“Who’s your _friend_ , ‘kaashi?” Konoha asked.

“It’s Iwaizumi. Remember, you met him the one night?”

“Ah.” Konoha squinted a little harder, then relaxed, recognition crossing his face. “So he is.”

Iwaizumi held up the tea uncertainly. “I, uh. Brought this for you.”

“Come in,” Akaashi said, taking the cup from him. Konoha moved out of the way and disappeared back into his room after issuing an order for them both to ‘keep it the fuck down’. Iwaizumi closed the door behind himself and they stood in the entranceway for a few moments, Akaashi taking a few sips of tea, Iwaizumi shifting from foot to foot.

“I didn’t know what kind to get. Hope it’s okay,” he said eventually.

“It’s fine.”

“Sorry for waking you guys up.”

“It’s fine.”

And they were left in silence, again. Finally, Akaashi sighed.

“Did you want something, Iwaizumi?”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I, uh. Came to apologize.”

“To apologize,” Akaashi repeated back. “For what, exactly?”

“For ignoring you.”

“So you admit to it.” He tilted his head, and even though he looked rumpled and tired, his expression was dangerous. “I’d like an explanation.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t very well tell the truth. But neither did he have the heart to lie outright. He had been practicing his excuses the whole way here, but now, standing here, they vanished from his tongue, leaving him with nothing.

“I don’t have one,” he said, and Akaashi clenched his jaw. Iwaizumi could feel his frustration like a tangible force around him. “I mean, I do, but it’s not—a good one. I was being an ass, I got wrapped up in my head, and I’m sorry.”

“I texted you. Every fucking day, even though you didn’t deign to acknowledge me.” His words were clipped. Iwaizumi let them sink into his skin like so many blades. “And that’s all you can say? That you’re _sorry?”_

Iwaizumi opened his mouth, but Akaashi lifted a sharp, silencing hand.

“No, I’m not finished. That’s the kind of treatment I expect from my enemies, not my friends. I thought we were friends, Iwaizumi. Was I wrong in assuming that? In _feeling_ that? Because friends don’t abandon friends by the roadside like so much _trash_ without at least having the decency to say it’s over _._ ”

Iwaizumi drew in a shuddering breath. He was trying to gather himself, gather his words, but it wasn’t working, so he just let them pour out of him in a rush. He could feel his hands shaking. “I don’t think of you that way. Like—like fucking _trash_ , god why would you say that—I don’t—I’m sorry, all right, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“The truth would be a good starting point.” His face held no mercy. And okay, yeah, Iwaizumi probably deserved this.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not good enough.”

“I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“ _Not good enough._ ”

“That’s the fucking problem!”

He didn’t mean to raise his voice so loud, didn’t mean for it to crack with emotion, but it was done now. Konoha had probably heard. Iwaizumi made strangled noise of frustration, rubbing his hands over his face, through his hair, before dropping them back to his sides. Clenched fists. There was no turning back now. He looked up at Akaashi even though it hurt, god did it hurt, to see his blank-faced anger. To see how much pain he had caused him.

So Iwaizumi just said it. The painful, horrible truth that had kept him away from Akaashi all week. He hated baring himself like this, hated every vulnerable second of it, but Akaashi didn’t deserve some half-assed version of the truth.

“I’m not good enough. Never have been. And I thought maybe pulling away from you would clear things up, but I was more confused than ever, and by the time I realized I was doing the _wrong fucking thing_ , it was already done.”

They were both silent for a few beats, Iwaizumi’s words hanging in the air. Moving slow, Akaashi bent and set down his tea. He took a step towards Iwaizumi.

“Not good enough for what?” Akaashi asked, his voice soft, so soft.

“For you. To be your—friend.”

“Don’t you think I should be the judge of that?”

It was all Iwaizumi could do to not laugh hysterically, at Kuroo’s words coming out of his mouth. And he was right, damn it, he was right. He bit his lip, hard, tasting blood.

“Stop that.” And Iwaizumi froze because Akaashi was touching his face, his calloused fingers cool on his skin as he tilted his jaw up so he had nowhere else to look but at Akaashi’s face. He was frowning and he still looked angry, but something about his expression had softened, gentled towards him. “You’ll make yourself bleed.”

Iwaizumi wanted to bite down harder but forced himself to stop. He didn’t deserve this soft version of Akaashi, the one that touched him like he was someone that needed to be handled with care.

But he wanted this. He wanted to know every version of Akaashi there was. Even the frankly, quite terrifying, angry one. He had been stupid to deny he wanted otherwise. So very, very stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, having nothing else. He felt empty, far-away from himself, and the only thing keeping him anchored to the real world was Akaashi’s fingers on his skin. They were still so cold, almost as clammy as his own hands, shaking by his sides. “I’m so sorry, Akaashi.”

His voice cracked again, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it because Akaashi was moving, taking his hand away from his face but stepping closer, lifting his arms until they fit securely around him. Iwaizumi let himself just be held for a moment before cautiously curling his arms around Akaashi in return. Loosely at first, then tighter. Probably too tight, but Akaashi didn’t complain.

They fit together like their bodies were made for it. Those three centimeters of difference didn’t mean much at all when they were this close.

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi said again. He closed his eyes, tight, just feeling.

“I know. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, I was being self-centered and an asshole and—”

“You were,” Akaashi interrupted. His long fingers curled through the short hair at the base of Iwaizumi’s neck, making him shiver. But then he was disengaging, stepping back. Iwaizumi let him go even though he desperately wanted to hang on. “But I forgive you.”

Iwaizumi bowed his head, knowing he didn’t deserve his forgiveness, not really. But he was selfish enough to accept it.

“Just don’t—don’t do that to me again.” He sounded lost. Iwaizumi glanced up, but Akaashi was looking away from him, at the cardboard cup of tea he had set aside, brows furrowed. “I kept thinking—maybe I had done something—maybe I had upset you—”

“You didn’t,” Iwaizumi assured him hurriedly. He was the one who had fucked up, not Akaashi.

Akaashi smiled, fleetingly, too small to show off his dimple.

“I’ve never known you to be a man who feared anything. Who ever doubted himself.”

“Everyone’s afraid of something,” he managed to say, remembering his conversation with Oikawa.

“So it would seem. But for you to believe you’re not good enough,” he sighed. “Just, let me know if you feel that way, ever again. I’ll be happy to remind you that I think you’re more than good enough. Everyone needs reminding of that, sometimes.”

It wasn’t that simple, he wanted to protest.

Or maybe it was? Fuck if he knew.

His heart was pounding a quick, staccato beat in his chest. Before he could think better of it, Iwaizumi closed the distance between them, pulling Akaashi into a tight hug. He was quick to return the embrace, his breath warm against Iwaizumi’s neck. They swayed a little in place, holding onto each other longer than before.

_You have to be present in the moment of the hug, dumbass._

Iwaizumi choked out a laugh. Akaashi gave a questioning hum.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, I—you’re just a good friend.” He took a breath and moved to let go, but Akaashi kept his arms around him. “I—I promise I won’t do something like that again. I won’t hurt you like that, not intentionally.”

“Maybe I should have been more forward. Maybe I should have tracked you down in person and forced you to talk, but I—I was scared I had hurt you, unwittingly. I was scared of what you might say.” Akaashi’s honesty burned him. Not for the first time this whole, wretched week, Iwaizumi felt like crying.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I’ve already accepted your apology. Everyone’s afraid of something. It turns out, our fears were ill-matched.”

“No kidding,” he mumbled.

They broke apart slowly, neither of them looking at each other. He felt raw, drained. Maybe Akaashi felt the same.

“Thank you. For the tea.”

Iwaizumi grimaced. He had gone with the type based on the stolen memories he’d gained at Soulmate Connect, not totally sure if it would truly match with Akaashi’s tastes. “It’s probably not the best—”

“No, it’s my favorite kind. Strong black tea, with a little sugar. I drink it almost every morning.”

_I know,_ Iwaizumi almost said but bit the words back.

Konoha shuffled out of his room, cursing them both for being ‘a pair of loud fucking bastards’, and went to the kitchen, slamming the cupboards open.

“Would you like to stay for lunch?” Akaashi asked, voice light, expression equal parts hopeful and uncertain.

“I, uh. Don’t know that your roommate would like that,” Iwaizumi said, wincing as he heard a pan smack resoundingly loud against the stove. Akaashi only smiled, hiding a yawn behind his hand before answering.

“Fuck Konoha,” he said, not bothering to keep his voice down.

“I fucking wish somebody would!” the other man shouted from the kitchen.

“You’ll have to forgive him, we pulled an all-nighter. We had papers for our Literature class due this morning.” Akaashi reached out, placing a light touch on his wrist. “Stay.”

With that, he picked up his tea and turned on his heel, leaving Iwaizumi to either follow or run away.

Iwaizumi took a breath, then another. Akaashi glanced back at him halfway towards the kitchen, raising a single brow.

“I didn’t mean literally,” Akaashi said, sounding unbearably amused. “C’mon. I’m a better cook than you’d think.”

Iwaizumi smiled and kicked off his shoes, following after him.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was planning on chapter six to be the last chapter, but I severely underestimated how wordy I would get ;;; but the next chapter (chapter 7) WILL be the finale chapter! Thank you so much to everyone for sticking with me and my erratic update schedule!!!
> 
> And as always, thanks for reading!!


	7. What You Found and What You Ran To

Iwaizumi adjusted the sleeves of his shirt. It was the same outfit he’d worn when Akaashi and he had made that stupid bet about dressing differently, but he didn’t think Akaashi would mind the repeat. He’d seemed to like it the first time, and Iwaizumi privately thought that it showed off his arms nicely.

“Keep glaring that hard, you’ll break the mirror,” Oikawa teased, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom with a grin that only widened when Iwaizumi glared at him instead.

“You look good. Stop worrying and go have fun.”

“It’s still too early.”

“Yeah, and you’re still a mess of nerves. Waiting around here isn’t going to fix that. A gentleman is always early, anyway.” Oikawa stepped into his space, eyeing him critically. “You sure you don’t want to borrow some cologne?”

“You saying I stink?”

“No, idiot, it’s just a confidence booster.”

Iwaizumi shook his head.

“I’ll be fine without.” He glanced back to the mirror and winced internally. He looked dead tired, even though he was buzzing with energy. Oikawa came up behind him and dropped his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

“You look good,” he said again, eyes suspiciously bright.

“I look like shit,” Iwaizumi replied, eyeing his dark circles.

“Don’t talk about my best friend like that.” Oikawa blinked rapidly, hugging him from behind.

“What the hell—what are you crying for?” Iwaizumi tried to turn around and face him but Oikawa held him in place, so he settled for looking at their reflections. “C’mon, man, talk to me.”

“I’m just happy.”

“Oikawa—”

“It’s true!”

“ _Tooru._ ”

Oikawa sniffed, finally letting him go and returning to the doorway. He lingered there though, turning to face him. “I’m happy for you, Iwa-chan. I’ve never seen you so head over heels about a person before, so I just—I want everything to go perfect for you.”

“Perfection doesn’t exist, it’s some dumb societal construct.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know what you mean.”

Oikawa flashed a watery smile. “I want you to be happy, Hajime.”

“I am.” Iwaizumi smiled back.

“I want you to have everything good and bright and beautiful in your life.”

“Okay, okay.” He shoved his way, gently, past his friend and headed for the door. “One order of stop the sentimental train, please.”

He felt Oikawa watching him as he shoved his feet into his shoes, as he pulled on his jacket. With a sigh, he opened his arms.

“Hug for good luck?” he said, only half a question. Oikawa grinned.

“You don’t need luck.”

He hugged him all the same.

Iwaizumi left the apartment with his heart beating fast. There were so many what-if’s hanging in his head that he was fighting to rid himself of. It wasn’t like him to doubt himself so much, to doubt his own feelings and experiences. And he wanted Akaashi to see the real him, to know the real him.

He took a few deep breaths. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of dry leaves.

Iwaizumi let his feet carry him fast to the roadside park outside the train station they were going to meet at.

On one of the benches, he spotted Akaashi.

“I, uh. Am I late?” Iwaizumi asked, even though he knew he was early by ten minutes. Akaashi got to his feet hurriedly, brushing at his jeans, and not quite meeting Iwaizumi’s eyes. There was a flush high on his cheeks.

“No, sorry, I—I left a bit earlier than I should have. You’re right on time.”

He was wearing green, too, a green cardigan over a paler green button-down. Which meant they matched. Iwaizumi cleared his throat, feeling a blush rise up his neck.

“Sorry to make you wait.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“You, um.” Iwaizumi made a broad gesture to his outfit. “You look nice.”

“So do you,” Akaashi replied, with a tiny smile that made his heart jump in his chest.

“So, uh. Shall we?” He made an awkward gesture towards the station proper.

“Of course. We wouldn’t want to miss the previews.”

They fell into step. Every so often, their arms would brush. Iwaizumi pretended to ignore the small touches, even though it made him feel warm. Once on the train, Iwaizumi found himself too jittery to sit beside Akaashi, so he grabbed hold of the safety rail and stood in front of him. Akaashi raised an eyebrow at his stance.

“Do I smell or something?”

Iwaizumi, who had been idly preoccupied with reading the advertisements flashing by the screens, replied without thinking.

“You smell nice, yeah.”

“I—oh. Thank you.”

His words caught up with his brain at that moment. Iwaizumi gripped the safety rail a little tighter, sweat coating his palms and stared fixedly out the window at the scenery blurring past them.

“I just meant—well, you do. Just, nevermind.”

Akaashi was smiling now. He leaned forward a little, towards Iwaizumi. It was a change in perspective him looking up at Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi looking down. “Two compliments in one day? I’m wondering what I’ve done to deserve it.”

_You deserve the world and more._

Yeah, he couldn’t say that.

“Two’s your daily limit, so don’t go fishing for more,” Iwaizumi warned, fumbling for something to say in response. Akaashi’s smile widened, head tilting a bit to one side.

“Hm, so what about all the days I’ve only gotten one compliment from you? Or none? Do I get to cash those in whenever I want?”

Banter was familiar territory. Iwaizumi felt relaxed enough to drop into the seat next to Akaashi, though he still bounced his knee a bit to get rid of the residual jitters.

“You can cash in one per day.” When had Akaashi started keeping track of his compliments? No, he was just teasing him, that was all.

Akaashi snorted. “Stingy.”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

“What if there are special circumstances? Say I’ve had a truly awful day and am in desperate need of your complimenting prowess, but I’ve reached the daily limit and cashed in one already.”

“Take it or leave it,” Iwaizumi repeated, slower.

“You really don’t understand this whole bargaining thing, do you?”

“I could always rescind the offer.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Akaashi said, quite confidently. Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at him.

“Pride goeth before the fall, dude. Keep pushing and I’ll knock the daily limit down to one.”

Akaashi mock gasped, covering his mouth in overdramatized horror that Iwaizumi couldn’t help smiling at.

“You fiend! Fine, it’s a deal.” He offered out his hand. Iwaizumi shook it, swallowing a yelp when Akaashi used his grip as leverage to pull him closer. There was a bright and devious glimmer in his eyes as he whispered, “But don’t think for a moment that I’ll forget this.”

He let go. Iwaizumi was momentarily frozen in place, a little too close to Akaashi to be considered merely friendly. Iwaizumi cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat, returning his gaze to one of the vid screens where the news was playing silently.

Akaashi nudged him with an elbow.

“I’m cashing one in,” he said. “Hit me.”

This man was unbelievable. Iwaizumi gave him one of his patented Looks but all he did was grin back at him.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

“I’m not a—a compliment machine! Give a guy a minute to think, would you?”

Luckily the train had just pulled up to their stop, and they stood and trooped out into the station and headed up to the streets. It took him a moment to find his bearings, blinking against the bright lights of the still wide-awake city. Akaashi looped their arms together, tugging Iwaizumi towards the wall of the closest building so they were more out of the way of pedestrian traffic.

Even once they were safely out of the stream of moving people, he did not drop Iwaizumi’s arm. But he didn’t look at him either, his dark eyes, roving over the buildings just a little too intently to be natural.

Maybe he was nervous too. It was their first real outing, their first time hanging out that didn’t run the risk of being interrupted by other friends or classes.

Iwaizumi cleared his throat a little.

“You’ve got a nice smile,” he said all in a rush. Akaashi did look at him then, eyes wide with surprise.

“What?”

“Let’s go.”

“No, you can’t just—you have to do it properly!” Akaashi protested as Iwaizumi started dragging him along the street towards the movie theater.

“What, you want a handwritten invitation or something? ‘You are cordially invited to be complimented by me’ or some shit?”

“Is that an option?”

“No, dumbass. Now c’mon, we don’t want to miss the show.”

He thought he heard Akaashi mutter, ‘I’ll show you who’s a dumbass, you dumbass,’ but it was mostly lost in the noise of other people talking as they walked up to one of the automated booths to get their tickets.

There weren’t many people in the theater, which wasn’t surprising considering how long the movie had been out for.

Iwaizumi was just about to turn his head and ask Akaashi where he wanted to sit when Akaashi touched his lower back, applying light pressure. He pointed towards the middle seats.

“How about there?” he asked in an even, calm tone. As if he didn’t realize that his touch was electrifying.

Iwaizumi cleared his throat a little too loudly and nodded, taking a few swift steps to escape that touch, telling himself it was so no one else could claim those prime seats before them.

They settled into their seats just as the lights dimmed for the previews.

Iwaizumi wondered if he’d be able to pay attention to the movie at all, with Akaashi beside him.

By the time the previews and opening scene had passed, he was able to relax, drawn in by the story unfolding before him. But at the climax of the action, he did something incredibly stupid.

Used to sitting beside Oikawa whenever he went to the movies, he reached for Akaashi’s arm that was on the armrest between them, gripping tightly and giving it a small shake with his eyes fixed on the screen.

Akaashi’s head whipped towards him, just for a moment, before turning back to watch the movie.

Iwaizumi’s mind was filled with a blank buzzing as he thought frantically of what he should do. Apologize? Hell if he knew. Letting go of his arm would be a good place to start.

As he disengaged his fingers, he heard Akaashi inhale sharply, and the next thing he knew, it was Akaashi holding onto _his_ arm with an almost painfully tight grip.

All right. Okay. Akaashi was probably used to sitting next to Bokuto during movies, and maybe he didn’t mind that Iwaizumi had reached for him. That was a reasonable explanation.

He was only able to half-focus on the ending of the movie. Akaashi kept his hand on Iwaizumi’s arm until the lights came back up in the theater, at which point he politely withdrew without a word, folding his hands in his lap.

“You like watching the credits, right?” Akaashi asked, leaning back in his seat a little, while most of the other people there started to filter out of the viewing room. “Do you want to?”

He did enjoy watching the end credits in their entirety, a habit he had picked up from his mom. But he certainly hadn’t told Akaashi that, so how could he have known?

“We, uh, we don’t have to stay if you’re ready to go.”

“I enjoy watching them too, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay.”

“Fine by me.”

Iwaizumi settled back into his seat, turning his gaze to the credits. The spot where Akaashi had been holding onto his arm felt warm still.

“It’s like I’m paying my respects to the people who made the movie possible,” Akaashi said without any prompting. “Bokuto and I usually stay through the credits, too. So we can show our respect for their hard work.”

“That’s, um.” Iwaizumi faltered.

“Weird, I know,” Akaashi said with a small laugh.

“That’s not what I was going to say.” He took a breath, keeping his eyes fixed forward. “That’s basically what my mom always told me. That I needed to show respect for all the people who worked hard to create the movie, even if I don’t know who they are.”

“She sounds like a good person.”

“She is.” Iwaizumi glanced at Akaashi, but his eyes were on the now blank screen. “You ready to go?”

Akaashi startled, ever so slightly, before standing. Iwaizumi got to his feet as well and they trooped out of the theater and back out into the city.

It was somewhat calmer and quieter now, at this late hour, and there was only a handful of people who boarded the train with them. They found seats together at the end of the train car where they could talk without disturbing anyone else.

Iwaizumi was achingly aware of the warm heat of Akaashi’s leg next to his, of the gentle pressure of his knee against his own. But he was even more enthralled with how animated Akaashi was as he tore apart every plot-hole of the movie. Iwaizumi added in where he could, argued where it seemed right, laughed at how riled up Akaashi got when Iwaizumi disagreed with him.

“You can’t be serious,” Akaashi said, casting him a look of partly feigned disgust. “That was by  _far_  the worst part of the whole movie.”

“It reminded me of Godzilla.”

“Godzilla was  _terrible,_  Iwaizumi. Not to mention, it’s a relic. I’m beginning to question your taste.”

“Godzilla was a masterpiece,” Iwaizumi said. The relic comment didn’t merit a response.

“Strange, anyway, that you would like a monster movie so much when it’s superheroes you really like. Good defeating evil, saving the world, all that.”

Had he ever talked about his love of superheroes and comics to Akaashi? He really couldn’t remember bringing it up before. He probably just recognized it from all the superhero themed shirts he wore. Iwaizumi shook his head, and was about to argue that he could like  _both_ , thank you very much, when the news vid running on the screen overhead caught his eye.

The headline scrolling past read “Soulmate Connect Exposed”.

His heart sank, sickeningly.

_A pair of hands, turning the pages of a book._

“Iwaizumi? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just. I’m gonna tune into the news real quick, hold on.” He pulled out his phone and called up the vid on his screen, keeping the noise low enough where it wouldn’t disturb the few other passengers farther up the train car. Akaashi leaned closer to listen in too, pressing their shoulders together.

He wished, for once, that he wouldn’t be so close to him.

The story was half over by the time it loaded on his phone, but what he heard only made him wish he’d never seen the headline at all.

_“According to our inside sources, the true evaluation process is not at all what it has been marketed to be—a system to connect soulmates to each other. It has been shown that people’s emotions override the function of the fMRI, thereby affecting the projections and the overall results. Clearly, this is a system that shows a person whatever it is they want to see._

_When we asked the director if the system only matches you with those who have been profiled, we received a ‘no comment’._

_More news to follow at—”_

Iwaizumi exited away from the news site.

He felt light-headed. Sick.

Akaashi had been profiled. He had to have been, for Iwaizumi to be matched with him. And Akaashi must have gotten a result.

Was it him? Someone else?

One thing was for sure, Iwaizumi has gotten worked up over the certainty they would end up together for no damn reason.

He had no chance with being with Akaashi. Not even the slightest hope. All his doubts about his feelings had been founded.

“Iwaizumi?” Akaashi was watching him, careful.

He couldn’t say anything. His throat was too tight, too dry. He felt the train slow down as they approached the next station and leapt up.

He had to get away from him.

He couldn’t be here.

“Iwaizumi? This isn’t our stop,” he said, getting to his feet, but Iwaizumi was already gone, too fast for Akaashi to catch.

He was the Ace, after all.

Iwaizumi heard the door shut behind him. Heard Akaashi call for him, heard his hand hit the door.

But it was too late.

Iwaizumi stood frozen as the train flew back into motion, gliding past him and carrying Akaashi away.

He half-fell, half-sat onto one of the waiting benches, ignoring the strange looks he was garnering. Maybe they thought he was drunk. That was fine, as long as they left him alone.

Iwaizumi sat there, hugging his arms around his middle, and watched two more trains go past before getting back on and getting off at the correct station.

His phone dinged quietly in his pocket but he ignored it, too afraid it would be Akaashi. He walked briskly, taking a different path than usual on the off-chance Akaashi was lying in wait somewhere—he couldn’t bear to see him right now, not after—

He closed the apartment door quietly as he could, but Oikawa heard him anyway and came bounding out of his room.

“The lover boy returns! Hit me with them details, Iwa-chan!”

Oikawa’s demeanor changed instantly upon seeing him, approaching more cautiously. Iwaizumi caught a glimpse of himself in the long mirror they had placed in the living room, pale-faced and shaking.

“Iwaizumi?”

He just—he needed to think. Or to not think. He didn’t know anymore.

He just wanted to know what was real. God, was that so much to fucking ask?

_A pair of hands, turning the pages of a book—a pair of hands, turning the pages of a book—a pair of hands, turning the pages of a book—a pair of hands—_

“Hajime?” Oikawa’s hands closed on his shoulders and Iwaizumi all but fell into his arms, tears spilling out of his eyes. He didn’t know why he was crying, it was stupid, it was all so _stupid_ , he hadn’t wanted to go in the first place—

“Hajime, what’s wrong?” He sounded desperate, clinging to Iwaizumi too tightly, smoothing one hand through Iwaizumi’s hair. “Please talk to me. Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I’m not hurt,” he choked out, even though his chest _ached_. “The news, there was—”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Oikawa was already disengaging one of his arms, pulling his phone out of his pocket and typing into it furiously, probably searching for the headline that had so upset him.

Oikawa drew in a sharp breath. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and curled his other arm back around him.

“I’m sorry, Hajime, I’m so sorry.” He sounded as pained as Iwaizumi felt.

It hadn’t been real. None of it had been real.

_Then why does it hurt so much?_

He had been a fool to think that maybe, just maybe, he stood a chance with Akaashi. But they weren’t soulmates. They weren’t anything.

“Does Akaashi know you went?”

“I don’t know. I saw it and I—I ran.”

“That’s not so bad, then is it?”

“I fucking _ran,_ Tooru.”

Oikawa hushed him quietly, murmuring soothing words that went in one ear and out the other. He was vaguely aware of Oikawa helping him out of his shoes, of being led to the couch, pressured into laying down on it. Oikawa sat on the floor by him, holding his hand even though Iwaizumi’s palms were cold and sweaty.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, but he sounded so uncertain. “It’ll be okay, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi didn’t have the strength to tell him that _nothing_ was okay, nothing would ever _be_ okay ever again.

They sat there for a long time, long enough that Iwaizumi’s tears ran out—he’d never thought he was that much of a crier, before now—and his chest felt less like it might implode. His phone had been buzzing in his pocket intermittently.

“Tell me what I can do,” Oikawa pleaded with him. “Tell me how I can help. Please.”

Iwaizumi shook his head. There was nothing to be done. He needed to think and that wasn’t something Oikawa could help with.

“I’m tired,” he whispered.

“Okay. Okay. Do you want me to stay with you?”

“No,” he said, not sure if he meant it.

“Do you want to shower first? I know it doesn’t fix anything, but…” he trailed off, gripping his hand a little tighter. Iwaizumi didn’t know if he could muster up the energy to wash up, but he nodded anyway. Water was therapeutic and maybe it would clear his head. “I’ll go start it for you, get the water warmed up. It’ll take just a minute. Go grab your pajamas, okay?”

Iwaizumi nodded again, levering himself up to his feet. Oikawa reluctantly let go of his hand and headed to the bathroom.

Iwaizumi left the lights off in his room, grabbing for a pair of longue pants blindly and digging around in his closet for his lucky hoodie. It wouldn’t help anything, but it couldn’t _not_ help, either.

There was steam filling the bathroom by the time he shuffled in, in a daze. Oikawa touched his shoulder in passing, face tight with concern, and closed the door behind him.

Iwaizumi stripped efficiently and stepped under the water. He turned it up higher, until the water felt burning against his skin, numbly going through the motions of washing his body and hair.

By the time he shut the water off, he felt—empty.

He dried off half-heartedly, pulling his pajamas on and not caring that water still dripped from his hair. He left his other clothes in a pile on the floor, too drained to be bothered picking up after himself.

Oikawa was waiting on the couch for him, his robotic leg bouncing as he jiggled his foot. He stood when he saw Iwaizumi, frowning.

“You have to dry your hair properly,” he chastised softly, reaching for the towel in his grasp and carefully running it over his head. Iwaizumi held still beneath his ministrations, taking comfort in his presence. He was a good friend. The best friend he had. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes. “I’m tired,” was all he said.

“Of course. Is there—can I do anything? You’re sure you don’t want me to stay with you?”

“I have a lot to think about,” Iwaizumi said, trying to put some life into his voice, trying to act more normal. He wasn’t sure it worked.

“I could help, I could be a sounding board. I’m a good listener.”

“Tooru. I’ll be okay.”

“You don’t _look_ okay.”

He looked like shit. He didn’t need a mirror to know that. Iwaizumi took the towel out of Oikawa’s hands and padded into his room, tossing it in the hamper. Oikawa followed, lingering in the doorway of his room.

“I could get you some ice cream,” he offered.

“I just want to sleep.”

Oikawa bit his lip and nodded, watching Iwaizumi as he crawled under the covers and burrowed his face into the pillows.

“Promise me you’ll sleep too, Tooru,” he said, voice muffled by the fabric.

“How could I possibly sleep when I know you’re crying by yourself?”

He lifted his head, craning his neck to face Oikawa. “Does it look like I’m crying, dumbass?”

“Not right now, but you might.”

He couldn’t read his expression, not in the dark. He sighed and closed his eyes, dropping his head back down.

“I’ll come get you if I feel like I might,” he lied.

“Liar. You’re always trying to take everything on all by yourself.”

“I promise to come get you, if you promise to try to sleep.”

Oikawa sighed. “Okay. I promise. Hajime?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be okay. I love you.”

“Yeah. Love you,” he muttered back.

With that, Oikawa quietly shut the door.

His phone buzzed again, from where had had thrown it on his nightstand, lighting up the room briefly. Iwaizumi swallowed hard and reached for it.

Akaashi.

His vision blurred but he blinked it away, his eyes tracing over the multiple messages he had sent to him.

_You left rather abruptly, but I wanted to let you know I had a great time tonight._

His next messages were a few minutes later, all pouring in one after the other.

_Please don’t ignore me._

_Iwaizumi?_

_I promise not to call Godzilla a relic again if you just answer back. I was only teasing._

_You know that I hate being ignored._

_Konoha keeps asking how it went and I don’t know what to tell him. Everything seemed fine until we got back on the train._

There was an interval of ten minutes before the next message.

_I really did enjoy my time with you. You must be asleep. I’ll try again in the morning._

And then—

_Sweet dreams, Iwaizumi._

Iwaizumi closed his eyes, keeping his fingers curled around the phone so tight that the polycarb case around it creaked under the strain.

Soulmate Connect was a fraud.

Did that mean that the feelings he had towards Akaashi were nothing but a fraud too?

He didn’t know. He really didn’t know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He must have slept because the next thing he remembered was waking blearily, his throat intensely dry. Iwaizumi squinted at his phone to read the time—almost five in the morning. He groaned. That was early, even for him.

He didn’t feel better, but at least he felt rested. Fresher. More prepared to take on the mess that was his feelings.

Iwaizumi threw on a pair of running shorts and crept out of his room. He’d feel more himself after a run. He always did. He took a chance and peeked in on Oikawa.

He was asleep, one arm thrown over his face.

Iwaizumi sighed in relief that he hadn’t kept himself up all night and moved to close the door.

“Iwa-chan,” he mumbled. “C’mere.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“Not ‘til you c’mere.”

Iwaizumi sighed and approached the bed, standing in silence until Oikawa pulled his arm away from his face and squinted up at him.

“You’re going somewhere,” he accused.

“Just for a run. I’ll be back soon and make breakfast.”

“Time?”

“Too early. Go back to sleep.”

“I could come with,” he protested, even as he shut his eyes. Iwaizumi couldn’t help smiling as his breathing deepened out again. He pulled the blankets up from where he had kicked them off in the night and left him.

He downed a glass of water in the kitchen, then another, before moving out in search of his shoes.

Iwaizumi was finishing tying his laces when he heard the quiet knock at the door.

It was five in the fucking morning, who was knocking on the door?

He had someone in mind, but that stupid to even think about. It was probably just Matsukawa or Yaku, needing to borrow something. Though what they could possibly need at this hour was a mystery. With that steadying thought in mind, he swung open the door.

Akaashi’s hand was raised like he was going to knock again, but it dropped back to his side quickly. He smiled, hopeful, prominent dark circles under his eyes. He must not have slept at all.

“I was hoping you’d be awake by now.”

Seeing him again was like a punch to the gut. _A pair of hands, turning—_ Iwaizumi shoved the vision aside, viciously.

“It’s five in the morning,” he said, nothing else coming to mind. His voice was hoarse, testament to having just woken up.

“Can I come in?”

Iwaizumi stepped forward, shutting the door behind him. “Oikawa’s sleeping.” He swallowed hard, and turned his back to Akaashi to lock the door. His hands shook, so it took several waves of his chipped wrist to get the lock to click into place.

When he turned back around, Akaashi still wore that same smile.

“I was hoping we could talk. You left abruptly last night, before I could say anything but—”

“Not here,” Iwaizumi snapped. He immediately felt guilty for it, scrubbing a hand through his hair, wishing he’d had the sense to give it even a cursory brushing. “People are sleeping,” he added, quieter.

“All right.” His tone was easy, gentle. “We can walk and talk. I guess you’re going for one of your early morning runs? Let me join you.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t outright refuse him without looking like a total asshole, and there was that promise he’d made to Akaashi, that he wouldn’t hurt him, ever again, not intentionally. So he nodded in agreement.

Akaashi shivered when they made it outside, burrowing his hands into the sleeves of his obnoxiously bright, color-blocked hoodie. Iwaizumi looked away from him and dipped into a few stretches, pretending his first instinct hadn’t been to reach out to him, to offer some of his own warmth.

To take Akaashi’s hand in his.

Neither of them said anything until they had fallen into a comfortable pace, their shoes on the pavement almost the only noise in the not-quite-awake-world.

“Iwaizumi.”

He grunted in response and Akaashi exhaled loudly.

“All right, I’ll start. I went to Soulmate Connect, before the start of the semester. Before it started gaining so much popularity. I had these promotional tickets—I guess it doesn’t matter. But I did the whole thing, the fMRI.”

“Stop,” Iwaizumi said, soft. He didn’t want to hear this.

“You know all about it though, don’t you? There was a rumor going around that Oikawa managed to drag his best friend to that place, and of course, that means you.”

“I said stop,” Iwaizumi said, sharper, speeding up. Akaashi matched his pace easily, taking advantage of his longer legs.

“I thought for sure, at first, it was some kind of joke. I don’t know why I went, really—although you were right about me, when you said I was something of a romantic. Maybe that’s why, in the end, I went through with it. I thought for sure, it was nothing but pseudo-science. A dating scheme like any other.”

Iwaizumi wanted to laugh or maybe to cry at hearing his own words in Akaashi’s mouth. He had the feeling that no matter where he ran, or how fast, Akaashi would follow, so he kept his path steady.

Akaashi was silent for a solid minute. “But then I had these visions in my head, after it was done. Unshakable things, they were. And they felt realer than anything.”

Iwaizumi knew what he was talking about. They were dreams, or memories, flashes of _something more_ that he knew would be tangible if he could only catch hold of them—

“A pair of hands, resting on a desk, sturdy and dependable. Dark hair, a glance from equally dark eyes. The biggest smile I’d ever seen. The familiar sounds from the volleyball court. Walking down the stone path from the university grounds, leaves crunching underfoot. The sound of laughter carrying above.”

Iwaizumi’s stomach twisted. It was almost an exact copy of the visions he’d received. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it with a snap. Even if they matched, Soulmate Connect was a fraud. It didn’t mean anything.

“And then of course, two weeks later, I got an official notice from Soulmate Connect. I’d been matched with someone. My soulmate.” Akaashi paused. “You, Iwaizumi.”

“That’s not possible,” he ground out, even though his heart was racing. “I wasn’t profiled until long after the semester started.”

“Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi, stop.” Akaashi grabbed his arm, dragging him to a halt. They were in the middle of campus, but there was no one around but them. It wouldn’t have mattered if there was anyone around; all he could see was Akaashi’s face, all he could hear was Akaashi’s breath. “I know that it’s—it’s been proven to not be what it claimed to be, but you remember what the news said? About it showing people what they want to see? I think that’s what happened when I was profiled. Because it showed me you.”

“What are you trying to say?” he managed to croak out, folding his arms over his middle. He felt so lost. If he had been matched with Iwaizumi, why hadn’t he said something before?

Probably for the same reasons Iwaizumi hadn’t told _him._

“I thought I was making myself rather clear.”

He was, in a way. One thing was for certain, he was braver than Iwaizumi. He seemed—so sure of himself, of his feelings.

“What do you want from me, Akaashi?” he asked, voice shaking. Akaashi stepped closer, leaning in so their foreheads almost touched. The distance was at once both too much and not enough.

“Nothing more than what I’ve always wanted,” he said, so quiet. “Your friendship. Your companionship.”

They were silent and still for several long breaths.

“Tell me,” Akaashi said, still so quiet, still so soft.

“Tell you what.”

Iwaizumi would tell him anything in that moment, he knew, if it made him stay.

“Tell me your visions. Tell me who you were matched with.”

Akaashi deserved to know.

More than that, Iwaizumi wanted to tell him. Needed to tell him. The words came slow, halting at first, then smoother as Akaashi just listened patiently.

“A pair of hands, turning the pages of a book, large yet somehow elegant. Dark hair, a glance from indistinctly colored eyes. Half a smile. The familiar sounds from the volleyball court.” He took a breath, steadier now that he was almost done. “Walking down the stone path through the university grounds, leaves crunching underfoot. The sound of laughter carrying above.”

Akaashi was smiling, he could _feel_ him smiling.

“I was matched with you,” he finished in a rough whisper, daring to look at Akaashi’s face at long last. His eyes were closed. He was still smiling.

His eyes fluttered open, perhaps feeling Iwaizumi’s gaze and he stepped back, taking Iwaizumi by the arm and tugging him in a different direction.

“Come on. We should talk.”

“We are talking,” Iwaizumi said, following his lead regardless. They had been walking several minutes before he realized they were headed for the library. “Akaashi, I don’t think it’s open—”

“I have after-hours access. Don’t worry. I just don’t think the outdoors is the right place for this conversation.”

Iwaizumi nodded dumbly, pulling his arm out of Akaashi’s grasp and shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts before he could do something stupid like try to hold his hand. There was still so much up in the air, still so much they had to talk about. It wouldn’t be right, no matter how much he wanted to do it.

They didn’t speak the rest of the way to the library, nor as Akaashi flashed his wrist at the employee side door and lead him up to a floor to the all-too familiar mythology section. With only the dim morning light filtering in through the windows and skylights, the whole place felt very surreal. Like they were standing in a place outside of time.

As Akaashi sat in the stacks, leaning his backagainst the shelves, Iwaizumi broke the silence.

“I don’t believe in soulmates.”

“Me neither,” Akaashi said easily. “It’s a ridiculous concept, that any one person is made just for another.”

Iwaizumi’s heart sank lower. His words were true. This was it then. The moment Akaashi told him that despite being matched, despite the way they had been circling each other all semester, that it had all just been out of curiosity—that he didn’t want Iwaizumi the way Iwaizumi wanted him.

He could stand being just friends. It would be enough—would _have_ to be enough. He would beg for that, if he had to. Iwaizumi just couldn’t stand the thought of not having Akaashi in his life, in some way.

Iwaizumi sat beside him, keeping a careful distance.

“But, you know, I’ve talked to several other people who went through the procedure and then pursued the object of their visions. They all say the same things. ‘I can’t believe I’ve lived this long without them’. ‘I don’t believe in soulmates, but to them, I feel connected’. I think, despite the idiotic way they’ve presented the system, that there’s something to it. I think—well, my theory is that the fMRI procedure has a way of creating links between minds. Or perhaps just strengthening links that were already there.”

“That’s fucking creepy.”

“You think so?” Akaashi smiled a little. “Why else would we have these visions? They’re so mundane that you get a sense of déjà vu, right? And the longer I’ve interacted with you, the stronger the visions have gotten, the more of the facts I suddenly had in my head about you were proven true.”

He clasped his hands together in his lap, frowning down at them for a moment.

“You once asked me how I felt about Kerouac. That was one of the facts you knew from the procedure, correct?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi murmured, eyes roving over the shelves, unwilling to meet Akaashi’s gaze.

“One of my facts about you was that your favorite food is agedashi tofu.”

“I never told you, how could you—” he stopped himself short, because he already knew the answer. Akaashi continued on, listing the facts he knew as if by rote.

“I know you love superhero stories the most out of anything. I know you hate wearing ties. I know your favorite soap is grapefruit scented but you hardly ever buy it because Oikawa teases you.”

“I know you overfill your ramen with noodles,” Iwaizumi offered in return. Akaashi smiled, his eyes warm.

“Anyone who has seen me eat knows that.”

“I know you’re afraid of getting Alzheimer’s.”

The smile faded.

“They have a cure for it, you know. It’s not perfect, but—”

“I know,” Akaashi said softly. Then he shook his head. “I—before we met properly, back when I used to watch you from afar at games and practices—I hung onto those stolen facts like they were so important. But then I finally met you, we finally started being friends and I,” he took a sharp breath, pausing there to gather himself.

“You what?” Iwaizumi couldn’t help prompting.

“I started to get to know the real you, not just some dream version I had of you in my head. And the real you was better than anything I could have imagined. I treasure the things I’ve learned about you through our friendship more than anything I learned from Soulmate Connect.”

“Akaashi, I—”

“You don’t have to give me an answer now, but I just want you to know that I—I like you. Quite a lot. In the friend sense, of course, but in the romantic sense as well.”

Iwaizumi didn’t know what to say. He felt like he was in a dream world, everything around him fuzzy and indistinct except for the man sitting next to him. He dropped his hands to the carpet, rubbing the rough material with his fingertips, trying to ground himself.

“I like you, Iwaizumi. Not just because of what went down at Soulmate Connect. I like _you._ ”

“How do you know?” he whispered. “How do you know that this isn’t just something that Soulmate Connect put in our heads? How are we supposed to know it’s real?”

“Because nothing has been perfect about the way we’ve grown closer. We’ve made each other angry, hurt each other, said and done the wrong thing so many times.” Akaashi drew his knees close to his chest. “And I like to think I know my own mind.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know. It scared me too, at first, thinking some machine had messed with my brain. But all it did was plant a seed, Iwaizumi. Everything that’s happened since—that’s been _us.”_

Iwaizumi burst out laughing, quickly stifling the sound behind a hand.

“I didn’t think I was being amusing,” Akaashi said, slightly hurt.

“No, I just—you’re very brave.”

“And that’s a laughing matter, is it?”

“I’m laughing at myself.” Iwaizumi cleared his throat a few times, fighting back the nervous hilarity that threatened to break free again. “I’ve been so damn uncertain, so fucking scared of being rejected by you, and all this time you’ve been so _sure_ of your feelings. You’ve always been so upfront and I’ve just been so—so fucking stupid. About everything.”

“You’re not stupid.” Akaashi dropped a light touch on his forearm, withdrawing almost as soon as he landed. “Stubborn, yes. Slow to come to any conclusion, yes. But not stupid.”

Iwaizumi looked at him for a long moment, watching him chew on his lower lip with idle fascination.

“I know I said I didn’t need an answer right away, but—”

“I like you,” Iwaizumi interrupted, and had the joy of watching his eyes go wide.

“Oh,” Akaashi said quietly.

“In the, uh, romantic sense.”

“I did hope you would. I had my suspicions. No one had ever quite hugged me like that before.”

“What, like they were fucking desperate?” Iwaizumi snorted, self-deprecating.

“Like I was the only person that mattered in the entire world.”

Iwaizumi didn’t know what to say to that.

“So, um.” Iwaizumi had so many questions, so many things he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t connect in his head to form proper sentences. He wanted to get this right, for once, he wanted to say the exact right thing.

“You wanna date?” was what he blurted out ineloquently. Before he could even wince internally at how awkward that sounded, Akaashi smiled, showing off his dimple.

“Very much so. If you’re game, I am too.”

Iwaizumi was a man of action, not of words.

Iwaizumi took Akaashi’s hand, interlacing their fingers.

His were long, calloused, elegant. He remembered what Akaashi had said, about his visions. _A pair of hands, sturdy and dependable._ Iwaizumi had never much liked his own hands, had always thought they were too square, too rough. But Akaashi had said the words with fondness.

Akaashi squeezed his hand, his thumb rubbing idly over his own.

His mind was calm, clear. It was as though the world had come to a halt around them, leaving them in this peaceful bubble. For once, the visions didn’t interrupt his thoughts.

It didn’t matter, in that moment, if Soulmate Connect was real. Having Akaashi’s hand is his was an experience of its own. Being close to him, knowing that he felt the same way about Iwaizumi—Soulmate Connect could go burn in a ditch for all he cared. Akaashi had been right. Everything that had happen since they were profiled and matched, that was _them._

Akaashi was watching him closely.

“Can I…” Iwaizumi didn’t know how to ask except for being blunt about it, and he didn’t want to break the peace. His eyes dropped to Akaashi’s lips and with his free hand, he traced the sharp line of his jaw, tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear.

“Please,” Akaashi said simply.

Akaashi leaned in to meet him when Iwaizumi shifted, tilting his head, just so, and their lips met, oh-so-softly. It didn’t last long, just a dry brush of skin on skin. Akaashi’s lips were warm against his, slightly chapped.

It felt—right. It felt good.

Akaashi squeezed his hand once more, curling their fingers together tighter, dropping his head to nestle it in the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck.

All he could smell was the malty, dark scent of Akaashi’s skin, the minty smell of his shampoo as he leaned into him.

He could get used to this.

“Akaashi,” he said after a few minutes had passed, but the other man didn’t respond. Iwaizumi craned his neck a little to get a look at his face.

Akaashi was asleep.

They’d have to leave the library soon, before anyone found out they were there after-hours. But for now, he wanted to let Akaashi sleep.

He wanted to save this moment in his memories, wanted to always remember the warmth and weight of Akaashi’s body beside his.

Hopefully they’d have many more moments like this in the future.

He closed his eyes.

_A pair of hands, turning the pages of a book._

He could see the vision even clearer than before. But even as he geared up to push it aside, determined to linger no longer on Soulmate Connect, the vision changed.

Iwaizumi saw his own hand reach out. Saw their fingers intertwine. Heard an indistinct whisper from a familiar voice. He could feel the warmth of his skin as if the vision was not a vision at all, but reality.

Iwaizumi smiled, opening his eyes to look down at their clasped hands.

It _was_ reality. Nothing had ever been more real. And though they had both made mistakes along the way, Iwaizumi wouldn’t trade a moment of it. Because Akaashi was right. It had been them, all along.

Maybe they were soulmates, maybe they weren’t. Maybe there was no such thing.

But they were together, right here, right now.

And that was the important thing.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and happy new year!! Thank you to everyone for your patience as I finished this fic <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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